Just thinking about what might happen if he made the wrong move again made Kazeem’s dark skin pale like ash. Not literally, but something in his blood pulled back, his body already reacting to fear.

  A breeze slipped beneath the doorframe and brushed his ankles. He shivered.

  He looked down. His mat was soaked with sweat. His arms, neck, even his scalp were drenched. He smelled like stress and bad sleep.

  He needed to wash.

  By now, he had learned something: when he stayed out of the scenes, the timeline flowed on without him. His absence didn’t stop anything. It just made the day unfold with less weight, Less consequence. When he was present, when he watched or intervened, it was like flipping a hidden switch. People became more vivid. Words grew teeth. Outcomes sharpened.

  But no matter what, the day tried to push forward. Even if it had to bleed to do it.

  So today, he chose absence.

  He avoided the kitchen like it was fire. Slipped out with spare clothes. Didn’t look at his mother. Didn’t breathe in the sauce graine.

  He ran toward the wash area near the edge of North Azuma, where the trees thinned and the air felt less scripted.

  That’s when it started.

  If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  He twisted the pipe open. Nothing.

  Then he looked up.

  Water was there, hovering.

  Not falling. Just… suspended. Like a bead of light trying to remember it was liquid.

  The world tilted. No…time tilted.

  A second passed. The water dropped. Splash

  in his eye, on his lips.

  “…?”

  He washed fast, shook his head like it might fix something, then stepped back into Azuma with damp clothes and short curls tightened by water.

  That’s when the show began.

  Children were near the school. Playing with a ball. One tripped. But the fall stretched, slow, syrupy… before snapping back into place.

  Birds in the sky froze, wings spread mid-flight, as if waiting for an unseen cue.

  Two merchants at a stall argued in mismatched speeds. One slow and dragging like honey, the other sharp and staccato, like anger turned mechanical.

  Kazeem blinked. Rubbed his eyes. Bit his tongue.

  This was real.

  The scavenger passed again, fast and blurred, gone before Kazeem could wave. The wheels squeaked like rewound audio, vanishing into the noise of the crowd.

  He turned toward the market.

  The merchants? Still there. But wrong.

  One raised a hand. The other shouted. The gestures looped. Replayed. Subtle differences each time. Like the scene had corrupted, trying to recall its lines.

  He swallowed.

  Turned toward the school.

  The closer he got, the slower everything moved.

  Dust floated too long. A door took a full minute to creak open. A blink from a child became a slideshow of emotion. One child stumbled on the steps… again? But hadn’t he already fallen, earlier?

  That’s when Kazeem realized, he wasn’t in a loop anymore.

  This wasn’t a reset.

  This was a breakdown.

  He was the only one who noticed.

  The others moved like puppets on tangled strings. They acted out their roles. But not in order. Not in rhythm.

  And not for him.

  The headache struck, vicious and fast. The hunger twisted, deep and primal. The whispers rose from every surface.

  Gb?… gb?… gb?…

  He grabbed his head, closed his eyes.

  This wasn’t a day anymore.

  It was a punishment.

  The world was rejecting him. The story no longer wanted him involved.

  He turned and ran.

  Not toward the school. Not the crowd. Not the scavenger.

  Home.

  He shut the door and dropped to the floor. Chest heaving. Mind spinning.

  The hunger gnawed. The whispers lingered.

  But here, inside these walls at least the light didn’t flicker.

  At least time, for now, pretended to behave.

  I’m taking more and more time to do one chapter … so I really hope I am cooking right now .