Viktor shook himself awake in the half-light of his room, groaning and reaching for his iPhone on the burnt oak, rickety bedside table.
Leaving his sheets tangled in a mass at the end of the bed, he rises to his feet, bringing his smartphone up to face and groaning, "Late for work again."
In almost one fluid motion, he pulls on his jeans, a black v-neck, and a flannel shirt, jogging into his apartment's hall as he looks for his longboard.
"Where the hell?" Not in the corner by the door, not back in the apartment in the wardrobe, not...
"Under the bed again." Shaking his head, he jogs out of the apartment, almost forgetting to lock the door, then running back to pull it shut. The apartment building's heavy metal door slams a little too hard as we jogs into the street and drops his board on the asphalt, pulling his earbuds in as he connects them to his phone.
Looking at his phone one last time, he groans and pumps once with his leg to get the board started rolling, then two, three, four times until he's careening down the uneven payment on his buttery smooth wheels, getting progressively lost in the thrashing 90's rock playlist emitting from his phone.
Looking up, he notices the left turn to the main road and moves as if to pick up his board.
In the split second that he looks down, a back-breaking force hits him and he feels himself slipping into darkness.