It was in the corner of a crowded cafe — a whisper of déjà vu pressing against my consciousness, muting the clatter of cups and the gentle hum of conversations. The barista had my face, or perhaps it was the cold latte in my trembling hands.
Somewhere, an old blues song echoed, reverberating through a timeline I'd never traveled but felt intimately familiar. The lyrics danced on the edge of memory, unearthing shadows cast by uncountable yesterdays. Here, I connected with an echo of something once tangible, touching, alive.
Entities of moments past flickered just beyond vision, swapping places with the now, elusive and teasing. Experiencing this felt less miraculous and more like a return home.