Something isn't right.
The streets are familiar, yet subtly off-like a song played in the wrong key. Time moves forward, but moments slip through unseen cracks. Conversations repeat with eerie precision, yet their meanings shift. Faces he's known forever now carry a faint trace of unfamiliarity. The past feels rewritten, rearranged as if by an unseen hand.
The deeper he searches for answers, the more the world bends-quietly, deliberately, as if it was never whole to begin with. Doors appear where there were none. Shadows stretch too far. Places he's certain existed vanish without a trace. He retraces his steps, but nothing stays the same.
Reality is shifting. The cracks are growing.
And once they appear, they never stop.
