It began as a perfectly ordinary morning, the kind of quiet start that gives no hint of the chaos ahead. The narrator moved through familiar motions in a half awake rhythm, preparing for work, sipping coffee, and gathering their things. Everything felt routine until a small, strange shape caught their attention outside. At first it registered as nothing more concerning than litter. Maybe a loose plastic bag caught underneath the car, or a forgotten towel someone had dropped on the street the night before. Nothing about it suggested trouble. It simply looked like an annoyance to deal with before driving away.
Still, curiosity tugged at them. The object had a peculiar shape, not quite flat, not quite smooth. As they walked closer, the shape shifted. It moved with a slow and deliberate slide that did not match the flutter of a bag in the breeze. A quick flicker of unease pulsed through their chest. The mind tries to rationalize surprises like this, and so their thoughts scrambled for explanations. Perhaps it was a stray cat hiding from the cold. Perhaps an old toy had rolled under the car and was settling into place. Maybe it was just a stick that had tilted when the wind changed. Each possibility felt thin and inadequate, yet the mind clung to them in an effort to keep fear at bay.
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