Not on the surface but somewhere beneath, in the quiet seams where metal meets metal, where memory is stored as tension.

I’ve been doing this same walk for years. Or at least it feels like it. I have the entire route down to a science. I know exactly how long it takes to complete. Two hours and twenty-five minutes. No more, no less. If I deviate from this, I won’t know who I am.

At first, it was just a tree—until it wasn’t. The bark rippled and the branches curled like fingers. His feet sank into the soft ground. A cold chill slid down his back. The wind cut out—absolute silence.