The alarm in my pocket never rings when expected. The streetlight flickers overhead, catching glimpses of my half-remembered childhood. Old wooden toys piece themselves together in the attic where time stands still, but memories spin onward.

She crossed the street without looking back, a shadow-like illusion blurred by the morning crowd. Was it last week or two years ago? Coffee on a rickety table clattering thoughts into focus for just a moment.

City lights stretch infinitely, just when you're sure there's an end. Muffled voices murmur about nothing and everything, blending into the cosmic noise of loneliness that follows you home on a snowy night.