Day after day passed, and Norman’s resentment towards the world grew. It felt like no one noticed him. Like the world had turned against him. He started to wonder whether anyone at school would care if he was gone. How would they react if he died? How would his father react if he died? Norman wanted to find out.

So he decided to fake his death.

After some online research, Norman realized that it would be too difficult to pull off. The logistics were too complicated. The police would see through it. It would be impossible. He felt disheartened and angry.

And then he had an idea. The impossible had been made possible once before…

So, on one cold winter evening, in early January, sixteen-year-old Norman prayed to Cyubo, requesting aid in faking his death. The fleshy cube materialized in a puff of red smoke. It had taken only a few minutes to arrive. Significantly faster than its first appearance.

The cube moved in that indescribable way it moved. Its thousand eyes seemed to peer into his soul, but, strangely, not in a judgemental way.

“You called?” it asked, vibrating a tad.

“Yes,” Norman replied, “I did.”

The cube floated in the air next to him, waiting.

Norman continued, “Help me fake my death. Let me see how everyone reacts when I die.”

“Understood,” Cyubo said, “For one day and one night you will be able to see the effect of your death through your astral projection. Is that acceptable?”

Norman nodded.

The cube disappeared.

Norman laid down in bed. Tomorrow, he would finally see what the world truly thought of him. He would reveal the true colors of those bastards at school. The ones who quietly watched. Judged. Gossiped. Maybe his father would come home. He could hardly wait.