The worst thing about these headaches, Nida realizes, is that he's not alone in them. At all. Of course, seeing people go through the same awkward distraction as he is isn't all the helpful. Especially when he sees a woman start walking into oncoming traffic.

Nida moves fast, as fast as he can, driving a gust of wind before him at the woman from the magic on his arm. It makes her stumble forward a step, puts her enough off balance that when Nida tackles her from behind, she goes down. He rolls them both out of the way of the car before pulling her over between two parked cars.

The thanks he gets? Being pummeled by her purse while she screams for a cop or Iteration, screams for help like he's trying to grab her purse or assault her or something. Nida just keep his hands up and away from his face, showing he's unarmed. And getting pummeled anyway.

Which of course is the PERFECT time for him to be assaulted by the memories of a man fondly watching his child at the park, drawing pictures, laughing with a puppy.

What even is his life?