By Kasey Barrett

The first time something felt wrong, he barely noticed—merely a brief glimpse into a muddy puddle. A routine Saturday night led him outside the club for a much-needed cigarette. His ears struggled to adjust to the sudden loss of sound as a brisk air began to cool the layer of perspiration found on his skin. The dawn that came before dusk was filled with drab thunderstorms who left their remnants throughout the city. 

As his shaky hands lit his cigarette, shifty eyes found their way to a pool of rainwater. He was met with a look of rage, yet the countenance found in his reflection didn’t coincide with the feelings in his heart. 

Was he really making that face? 

He quickly averted his gaze in fear of witnessing himself disconnect again. The floaty feeling that filled his body and lungs, a blurred vision accompanied with the obnoxious glare of streetlights, the buzzing world and its refusal to slow down around him. They all gave him a reason to ignore the eerie feeling seeping into his mind.

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