Once upon an unanticipated tomorrow, in a blink of an eye, we rewind. The clock laughs, tick-tock, mocking our futile attempts to progress forwards.
In a parallel universe, right next door, the grass grows blue instead of green. There, the cats walk the dogs. Time is a loop of loops, where every step taken is a step retraced. So, I took three steps back and two towards the refrigerator, and there she was, queen of the ice cubes, albeit a tad melted.
Remember the days when we thought adulthood meant knowing when to change our socks? Spoiler alert: The secret is to avoid laundry day altogether. And yet here we echo, the laundry spinning like a tempest of our missed opportunities.
The circle of life? More like a circle of circles.
Echoes of yesteryears dance around, a waltz of wistfulness. Shall we dance?
Somewhere beyond, the echoes fade, or do they amplify? Only the echo knows.