The clock’s ticking becomes louder, each second slamming into me like a blow to the chest. Time’s not passing. It’s dragging me down, suffocating me, as if the world itself is holding its breath.

The numbers on the clock blur and melt into each other. My head throbs with the effort to make sense of it. They won’t stay still, twisting into shapes I can’t recognize.

I tear my gaze away, but the hum doesn't leave. It clings to me, burrowing under my skin, pulling at the edges of my sanity, growing louder, unbearable until it feels like it's inside me.

I stand up, my legs unsteady. The floor beneath me doesn't feel solid anymore, but I move anyway.

I reach for the eggs, but my hands fumble, numb and uncoordinated. The eggshell cracks, splintering like glass under my finger. The yolk spills out in a slow crawl, pooling around the broken pieces. For a moment I hear a faint whisper, but it slips before I can grasp its meaning. My hands tremble but I can't stop staring, something about it feels strange like I have ruined more than just my breakfast.

Grabbing the mop I crouch down staring at the mess. In that moment, through the yolk, I see myself. My messy black hair, blurry face, tired eyes staring back at me. It's all fractured, like the cracks in the shell. My hands trembling, I hold the mop tighter, seeming to realize something.

This feels different, not the same, just different.

It doesn't matter. Nothing matters.

I step outside, and the cold air hits my face, numbing my body. It’s like I’m outside my body, watching from a distance disconnected from everything around me. The world moves around me like everyone else is part of some routine I can't follow. And I wonder if I stepped into the streets, into the road filled with speeding cars, would anyone stop me? Would anyone care? Or would they just keep moving, unaware of my life?

I keep walking, lost among them, a part of the crowd but never really there. Each footstep feels heavier as if the pressure of the world is pulling me further away from everything.

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The cold air is still pressing on me, but it doesn't wake me up. It doesn't make me feel anything.

I stop mid-step. My breath catches in my throat, a tightness spreads across my chest. A name rises under my lips.

“Akira.”

I don't know why I said this word. The name slipped out, soft and heavy, almost as if it's been waiting there in the back of my mind for so long. The world doesn’t freeze, but it feels like it should. The cars keep moving. The lights flicker like nothing happened. But something did. I shake my head, but the weight of it doesn’t leave. Why does it feel like I’ve said her name before?

Then, it happens.

A flash.

A fragment of something. A memory, maybe, or a feeling, something I can't quite place, but it's sharp. It cuts through my mind like a glass. It doesn't make sense. What is happening to me?

I stumble forward, my hands instinctively try to grab something to regain my balance, but there is nothing there.

I force myself to take another step. Then another.

The air thickens, heavy with static.

At first, it's a crack.

The colors bleed together, too sharp and too bright, while the sounds muffled as if I were underwater.

But then, It grows.

The street in front of me distorts, like a bad signal on a screen. I blink, and for a split second, the world seems to shift—no… fracture. People move, but they’re out of sync, like shadows stuck in the wrong time frame.

My chest tightens.

I can’t breathe. I can’t focus.

This isn’t real.

I try to move, to run, but the ground shifts beneath me. I can’t escape it. It’s everywhere.

Everything is breaking.

I shut my eyes for a moment, hoping that these were just illusions of my mind. Not even thinking. My feet hit the road, but the world feels... off. Different. It's as if the road beneath me isn't the same.

Through everything, a single thought lingers in my mind.

Akira.

Her name echoes like a broken record, looping repeatedly in the space between my ears until it becomes my only reality.

Who is she?

The question stabs at me, but it feels like it's fading slipping away from my grasp. Akira… who are you? Why is it that your name drowns everything?

The more I seem to reflect, the less I understand. And in that moment her voice echoes again. Akira.