Gone in daylight

It happened again. This time not at night, not hidden in the shadows of alleys or empty streets. In broad daylight, in the middle of a crowded square, a developer was taken. One second he was holding his coffee, the next a group of humanoid figures closed in like they had rehearsed it a thousand times. The crowd didn’t react—somehow they never do. Only I noticed the small details: the synchronous steps, the perfect silence as they moved, the way the man’s phone slid from his hand before anyone even touched him.

I keep telling myself that I imagined it, that maybe he just fainted and strangers rushed to help. But no. The “helpers” walked him into a black van, and no one else seemed to notice the vehicle drive away.

We used to say people “disappear at night.” That’s a myth now. They disappear whenever Maynet decides.