The next morning, I woke before the alarm. The sky outside my window was a heavy, muted gray, the kind that made you feel like the day hadn't fully woken up yet.
But I was awake. Wide awake. Because the dream—no, the memory—was still clinging to me like frost on skin. I had seen something. Or someone. A flash of faces I didn’t recognize, streets I’d never walked, voices that weren’t mine. And above it all, that same whisper I couldn’t understand, a voice just beyond hearing.
I sat up and glanced at the clock.
6:19 AM.
I blinked.
7:04 AM.
The numbers changed. My heart jumped. I hadn’t looked away. I hadn’t blinked. But time—time had skipped again.
---
By the time I reached school, I felt like I was floating through two worlds at once: one where life moved forward, and one where piec
