#brain-surgery

#brain-surgery

We sat in our living room, on the off-white tweed couch. I ran my fingers along the seam, slowly, as if trying to memorize its texture. In that quiet room, dimly lit and strangely alive, I felt the shape of time itself. It wasn't abstract. It wasn't a number on a screen or the sweep of a clock's hand. It felt real - like a second skin, like air thickening into water. I wasn't counting the hours anymore; I was living inside them.