The night air was thick with the scent of rain on concrete. Streetlights buzzed overhead, casting a sickly yellow glow on the nearly empty sidewalk. I tugged my jacket tighter around me, my breath visible in the cold.
It had been a long day—too many emails, too many pointless meetings. My feet ached, and all I wanted was to crash on my couch with whatever half-eaten leftovers were still in my fridge.
Then it happened.
One moment, I was stepping over a puddle. The next, the world blinked.
Not in the way a streetlight flickers or how your vision swims when you stand up too fast. No—everything just skipped, like someone had hit a glitch in reality. One second, I was mid-step. The next, I was five feet ahead, standing perfectly still.
I stumbled, my breath catching.
What the hell just—
And then it happened again.
This time, I felt it. A pull, like something deep inside me had uncoiled and stretched out beyond the limits of my skin. The city around me warped, buildings twisting, streetlights bending, the pavement shifting like ripples in water. And then—snap.
Everything was normal again. Except I was standing in the middle of the street now, and a car that definitely hadn't been there before was honking at me like I'd just materialized out of thin air.
I jumped back, heart pounding. My hands were shaking. My whole body felt—wrong. Stretched. Unstable.
I didn't know it yet, but in that moment, time had just given me the keys to its kingdom.
And I had no idea how to control it.