My eyes opens.
Again.
I find myself in the same café.
Everything looks familiar—the worn-out corner table, the gentle hum of lights above, and the quiet rainfall beyond the glass. But something’s different. I’m already here. Sitting in the corner.
I can see… myself?
It’s raining outside, but no sound touches my ears. Not a single raindrop.
I stare at my own reflection—or something more than that. A version of me. A mirror boy. He gets up without warning and walks outside.
And I follow.
Before the door even closes behind us, everything shifts.
The café melts away.
Now I’m standing in an open field—lush grassland under a black sky.
Stars shimmer above, and the moon smiles quietly. She looks like she knows everything but refuses to say a word.
I see him—my mirror self—walking ahead with her.
She’s here again.
That familiar silhouette. That voice.
"It was never meant to be like this."
She whispers it gently. As if she’s said it a thousand times before. Maybe she has.
I hear it clearly, even though I’m far away.
She begins to fade, like wind slipping through fingers.
She disappears.
And he just stands there. So do I.
Rain begins to fall—but only on him. I stay dry.
I’m watching… myself.
A dream inside a dream. A loop inside a loop.
I start running toward him—toward myself—but I can’t reach.
I’m stuck. He’s slipping further and further away.
And then suddenly—I’m face to face with him.
Tears gather in his eyes.
“Why didn’t you see the news?” he asks.
Then he fades.
Like he never existed.
I’m alone in the grassland now.
The stars seem colder. The wind hits harder.
The whispers come back:
“Why didn’t you call once?” “It was never meant to be like this…”
Everything falls apart again.
And I ask—myself,
“Why is this happening?”
But the sky doesn’t answer.
My eyes begin to close.