It began with the sound of rain on glass—an unlikely metronome syncing the chaos within. Thoughts spiraled like leaves caught in a gust. She had forgotten how the scent of petrichor could awaken memories buried under concrete layers of time.
Paths diverged within, fractals of desire and obligation. She paused at a fork, where words carved in shadows whispered of forgotten promises. The sky opened, spilling memories like marbles across a tiled floor, rolling away, each one a world unto itself.
A voice echoed, not loud but persistent, following her every step. "Choose wisely," it murmured, as if from an ancient tome of wisdom, or was it folly? The paths twisted, not straight, nor circular, an Escher maze in her mind. Could she follow it to the end, or was the end already known?
Follow the fragmentsIn that moment, the rain stopped. She stood at the crossroads, hands trembling, marbles cascading in a silent echo. The circle completed, not an end but another beginning. She smiled, unsure of the way, but certain of the journey.