The bicycle glowed faintly in the twilight, a memory of something once familiar. Its spokes spun in reverse, pulling thoughts into a spiraling vortex.

Eclipse jackets, worn, crumpled like forgotten dreams in a bottom drawer, whisper of time in loops, of time in circles, doubling back like lost echoes. The echo of a distant train never left the station.

Have you seen the sky fold into itself, a origami of clouds touching the corners of the unseen? Or felt the rub of sand between pages of books?

Cycle and recycles in the dim lighting of early decisions, beneath a lamp whose power is but a flicker.