Sometimes I find myself standing at the crossroads of what-might-have-been. Shadows flicker at the edges of my vision; they tell stories of futures unscripted. Walking these paths, I'm met by the whispers of places I've never been and choices I never made.
Each decision is a fork, its prongs unseen and mysterious. What if I had taken the other path? The echoes answer in silence, a distant mockery of curious possibilities.
There's a quaint cafe, a hidden gem on the corner of forgotten streets. I sit there often, contemplating this peculiar journey. The barista knows my order without me needing to speak, a simple black coffee with just a hint of nostalgia. The ambience warms me, wraps the lingering chill of uncertainty in a welcoming embrace.
Conversations with empty chairs, reminders of those who once filled the space. Their voices linger like the aftertaste of a bittersweet interlude. In the future's bendings, I seek solace in the rhythm of routine.
If you ever wander these lands, you might find the bends familiar. Or perhaps they're new, waiting to guide you astray. Embrace them, for every bending has its own story to tell.
In the quiet of dawn, as the world stretches and yawns awake, I ponder the unseen roads ahead. Will they lead me home, or further from the hearth of my making? Only time holds that answer.