As she stepped onto the cobblestone path, an unshakable sense of familiarity haunted her steps. The gust of wind whispered secrets only it knew, tracing fingers through her hair like echoes of past encounters.
In an ethereal murmur, she recalled the silver glint of the streetlamp, the constant hum of the city beneath its canopy of stars. But how had she walked this street before, when every turn felt new, every shadow strange and old all at once?
Each step, plot of the past unseaming the tapestry of her present. Inhale the night; exhale the ridges of time smudged together like an artist's misalignment of feeling and vision.