I used to think time was simple.
You wake up. You live your day. You sleep. Repeat. That’s how life works—or at least, that’s how I thought it worked until the skipped days began.
Now? Now I knew better.
Time could slip. It could fold. It could vanish—taking parts of your life with it.
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The morning after the old man’s warning felt... heavier somehow. I wasn’t sure if the weight was in the air or in my chest, but every step I took felt like I was walking through molasses.
“Not supposed to be here.”
His words echoed in my head on repeat.
I tried to act normal. Went to school. Sat through classes. Ate lunch with Lina. But I wasn’t there. My mind was elsewhere—running loops around something I couldn’t quite grasp.
Lina noticed.
“Hey,” she nudged me during history class. “You good?
