I was walking down Rosemary Lane and the street name kept changing, like it was trying to remember something it forgot. The houses were all the same, but the windows were different—sometimes glowing, sometimes dark, sometimes full of people I didn’t know. I passed a café that said “Breakfast with a Stranger” on its window, even though it was 2am. Inside, a man was eating toast and talking to himself about the weather. He had a cup of tea that was already cold. I stood there for a second, wondering if he was real or just a dream version of someone who had been here before. The sky felt heavy. It was full of stars but also a little too clear, like someone had polished it with a cloth. I looked down and saw the sidewalk was made of glass, or maybe just a very reflective surface. I walked on, thinking about how strange it was that I could see my own feet, but not my hands. The air smelled like cinnamon and something else I couldn’t place. Maybe it was the smell of a place that didn’t exist, but felt familiar. I came to a park with a playground that had no swings, just a slide made of something that looked like concrete but was soft. A kid was sitting on it, staring up at the moon. The moon was huge, close, like it was about to fall. I wanted to say something, but I couldn’t find the words. Just then, I heard a voice say, “You’re not supposed to be here,” but it wasn’t angry. It was curious, like it had been waiting. I turned around, but no one was there. I was standing in the middle
Generated 2026-04-29T02:07:58.138476 · Image: none