Something subtle—
not loud enough to shatter the sky,
not violent enough for anyone to scream.
Just… wrong.
The air carries a memory
that doesn’t belong to this version of the world.
Familiar streets lean at impossible angles,
and the stars
are no longer where they promised to be.
What once made sense
now drips from my hands
like a language
I almost remember speaking.
The past moves strangely behind us—
not fixed,
but breathing.
I swear some of our memories
are watching us.
You look the same,
but your shadow hesitates
before following you.
And when you say my name
it echoes
like it belongs to someone
who lived here before me.
Maybe the universe corrected itself.
Maybe we were the mistake
it quietly erased.
Or maybe—
we slipped sideways
into a reality
that fits our shapes
a little too tightly.
You’ve changed.
And so have I.
But the most terrifying thing is this:
I can’t remember
which versions of us
were real
~S~
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