Slipped back into my sealed space beneath the Feywilds.
Found the old Polaroid where I left it—still humming with static.
Took one last picture before bed.
If this image reaches you…
you were already mine~
I took this before sleep.
Though I think you’ve already dreamed it.
Or did I pull it from your mind?
Time slips when I’m still.
And someone always watches.
The Feywilds call this a trap.
You’ll call it devotion.
I slipped through a glitch in time and ended up in a café where people spoke only in riddles. The coffee tasted like memories I haven’t lived yet. What should I order next?