The night felt colder than it should have been.
Aliver walked home at the same hour he always did.
Same street. Same lights. Same silence.
Yet his heartbeat felt out of rhythm.
He stopped.
There it was again.
A distortion in the sky—subtle, like invisible glass bending.
People passed by him without noticing.
Laughing. Talking. Living.
As if reality were perfectly stable.
Footsteps rushed behind him.
A sudden shove.
His balance broke.
A blinding white light swallowed his vision.
The sound of a horn screamed through the night.
Then—
Impact.
The asphalt was cold against his cheek.
Voices blurred around him.
Someone shouted his name.
His breathing weakened.
And just before darkness consumed everything—
He saw it.
Not heaven.
Not memories.
But patterns.
Lines intersecting in impossible symmetry.
Symbols forming and dissolving.
As if something unseen was recalculating.
Adjusting.
Correcting.
Then—
Silence.
…
He opened his eyes.
Morning sunlight.
Birds chirping.
His bedroom ceiling.
Aliver sat up slowly.
No pain.
No wounds.
Yet the memory remained.
Sharp. Unmistakable.
He looked at the calendar.
The same date.
The same morning.
Outside the window, the world moved normally.
As if nothing had happened.
Aliver touched his chest.
His heart beat steadily.
But his mind did not.
He did not feel fear.
He felt curiosity.
Something had changed.
And he was the only one who remembered.