He pulled out his phone to try call his mom again. This time around there was no signal. No one in sight. His footsteps were the only sound his ears could gather up.

The amapiano tracks he’d often hear when he passes Mzeka’s tavern even at 06:00 were just imaginary tunes now. That orange Putco bus that always picks up other learners and workers was nowhere to be spotted; only the pole sign at the bus stop. Empty.

Adam looked back as he walked, saw the lonely streets and walls and houses and corners where cars were supposed to be speeding to at this time. Voices of good morning greetings from those meeting at corner stores. Those leaving homes in pyjamas and night dresses just to smoke or to buy amagwinya, bread and eggs or any other breakfast. Little kids being walked to creche or school by their mothers, and those dressed formally rushing with hand-signs to stop a taxi because they are getting late for work. None of that was happening here. Time: 07:21.

Am I in a dream? He asked himself internally where there was no stemmer. I’m still sleeping. I haven’t woken up yet. Yes, I haven’t woken up yet. I’m still in bed right now, not in this empty road.

He never woke up though, as he continued walking alone. It felt so insane he ended up running to this spaza shop container (it was still closed) and began shouting at the house for anyone to hear him. Just anyone, or someone to come out and see him. He ran from house to house, yelling like a mad man.

No one was there. “wha—wha—what the ffff…fuck!?” he screamed out some saliva, causing his glasses to fall off. He felt like a psycho prisoner locked up on its own. But that simile wouldn’t be far off since he’s all alone here, right?