One foot in front of the other, another step forward. I see the faces of people going about their daily lives, cheerful conversation fills my ears. I am not part of that crowd.
A little girl runs past, laughing, and a boy around the same age chases after her. They don't see me. I don't bother moving out of the way as the boy runs - right through me.
Am I a ghost? A spirit? If so, how long have I been one? A few days? Perhaps decades have passed and I never realized. Or maybe it's the world that's a dream, an illusion.
Either way, the world and its rules do not function for me as it does for others. I am an outcast, unneeded and unwanted. Perhaps I once had a name, but it has been long forgotten. The feeling of panic – of loss – I felt when I first realized I could not recall my name was fleeting, gone in an instant.
I wander the streets, pausing every now and then to observe the people passing by. All with a purpose, a place to be and something to accomplish. I end up walking along a deserted alley, the shadows concealing corners and blurring the outlines of everything. It's quiet.
I feel a tingling at the back of my head, telling me something is about to happen. Strange whispers that I can't quite make out fill my ears, a premonition of what was about to happen.
I whirl around. There, directly opposite to my position, just a few steps away, is a set of double doors that definitely weren't there a few seconds ago. Intrigued despite myself, I step forward. The doors are wooden, old and heavy, carved with intricate designs. I somehow can't seem to see what exactly the designs are.
I run a hand across the wood, fingers curling around the brass doorknob. It's strange, how I'm still able to touch solid objects even though I'm . . . whatever it is I am now. I feel a sense of foreboding, but also the strange feeling that I will find something here – either something I once had, or something I yearn for.
Deep breath.
A twist of my wrist, a push against the heavy wood.
A rush of air, a musty, familiar scent.
I step forward, finding myself in what seems to be –
A library.