MASKS AND ILLUSIONS
The scent of grass fades into something cooler.
“No,” I whisper, though no one hears.
The bell clangs, a sudden metallic echo that vibrates through my bones. Students scatter in streaks of colour, their shapes thinning to streaks of light. Daniella and my younger self remain for one heartbeat longer, their pinkies linked, their smiles soft and certain.
Then they, too, dissolve, first to shadow, then to nothing.
The silence that follows is absolute.
I stand alone in a corridor that is both Chrisland high and not, the walls trembling between past and present. The golden light flickers, replaced by a dim, silver glow like moonlight through fog.
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