Ponderings of The Deja Vu Dissenter

"I told myself I'd never say this again," she whispered to the mirror, its glass awash with existential ripples. "Yet, here we are. Again."

Why is it that Mondays insist on masquerading as Fridays in disguise? Our calendars, the ultimate tricksters.

They say the sky's the limit, yet I find myself wondering if flight attendants ever dream of ceiling tiles.

Is it bad manners to step on someone’s deja vu in transit? Or is it a courtesy to let them rediscover that old road?

Someone once commented on my penchant for pondering. "You're just a walking encyclopedia of things to think about," they said. I nodded, déjà vu flooding our interaction like a familiar tide.