The Hilltop Loop

​The rhythmic hum of the bus engine was a lullaby I couldn’t resist; my eyelids grew heavy, and I drifted into a deep, dreamless slumber. When I finally stirred awake, the world outside was unrecognizable. The bus sat idling at the crest of a desolate hill, surrounded by unfamiliar silence.

​"This isn't my stop," I told the driver, panic rising in my chest. He offered nothing but a cold shrug and a mask of indifference. My pleas fell on deaf ears. Defeated, I grabbed my bag and stepped out into the unknown.

​I reached for my phone—my lifeline—only to find the screen black and lifeless. I had forgotten my charger. Untethered from the world and gnawed by hunger, I took a swig from a warm water bottle found in my bag and began to trudge forward.

​Miles seemed to dissolve into a haze until a dilapidated hut appeared on the horizon. It was a skeletal structure, old and eerie. The door creaked open to a room thick with dust. Driven by a strange, subconscious instinct to create order out of chaos, I began to clean the tiny space. By the time I finished, the sun had dipped below the horizon, and darkness swallowed the hill. Exhausted, I succumbed to sleep on the hard floor.

​Morning brought a blinding sun but no relief. My thoughts raced to my uncle, to the farm, to the plans with my cousin that were now slipping away like sand. Hunger transformed from a dull ache into a sharp pain. That’s when I saw it—a mango tree, standing like a mirage.

​The fruit hung high, mocking me. I hurled a stone with desperation fueling my arm. Thud. A single golden mango fell. I devoured it, the sweet nectar exploding in my mouth, tasting of life itself. But it wasn't enough. My next throw missed. Defeated, I resumed my journey.

​The road stretched on endlessly. I felt trapped in a time loop, a prisoner of the pavement, walking toward a horizon that never got closer. My legs grew heavy, my vision blurred, and the world faded...

​Suddenly, a jolt.

​My eyes snapped open. The familiar rattle of the windowpane filled my ears. I was still in my seat, the bus engine humming its steady song. The hill, the hut, and the hunger vanished, leaving only the fading taste of a phantom mango.