It started with a sneeze.
Not Salem’s. The world’s.
One moment, reality hummed along with its usual background noise—people sipping coffee, trains running late, endless chatter about nothing. The next, everything hiccupped. A stutter. Like the universe forgot its next line in the script.
Salem felt it first—a sharp tug in his gut, that familiar warning before a skip. He braced for the usual disorienting jump. But when he blinked… he was still in the same spot. Same cracked sidewalk. Same chilly morning air.
Only this time, he wasn’t the only one who noticed.
Around him, people froze mid-step. A man walking his dog blinked repeatedly, looking at the leash like he didn’t recognize it. A woman holding a phone dropped it, staring at her own hands in horror.
Someone screamed. Another pers
