The Chime of Forgotten Days
It was on a Tuesday, or perhaps a Wednesday, when the clocks stopped. The air grew thick with a silence that unraveled itself in strands, whispering secrets long sworn to keep. Days brushed past each other like strangers on a packed subway, eyes fixed on unfocused horizons. Time, it seemed, had taken a vacation.
In these moments, the past became a delicate tapestry unraveling at the edges. Threads pulled apart, revealing mysteries and echoes of laughter believed to belong to someone else’s summer. Was it summer then? The sun may have chuckled in the background, swinging steady in a relaxed orbit.
Turn back through the reed-thin memories, or forge ahead into tangled reflections.