Navir headed home through the narrow streets, boots tapping stone out of rhythm with his thoughts. The market had thinned, but the air still felt crowded.
"…did you see him earlier?" someone murmured near a spice stall.
"Don't stare," another voice replied. "Just keep walking."
Navir passed without looking, though his shoulders tightened. A pair of students fell silent mid-laugh as he drew near. An older man paused his sweeping, eyes lingering a second too long. Even after he continued.
"He's changed," a woman whispered from a doorway.
"I noticed." came the answer. Too quick. Too sharp.
Navir slowed, heart ticking louder than his steps. He caught reflections in windows, movements that didn't match sound. People watching, then pretending they weren't.
Measuring distance.
Timing pauses.
At the corner near his home, two neighbors stood close.
"Was it always like this?" one asked.
"No," the other said. "Not before."
Navir stopped walking.
He realized he wasn't just noticing them anymore.
He was tracking who noticed first.
Navir kept his head lowered until the whispers thinned into nothing. Then he lifted it, resolve settling into his stride, and walked on, only to meet Nimi head-on as she came around the bend, a satchel of thread on her shoulder, dust clinging to her sandals.
She stopped short, offering him a concerned look and a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "Navir. It's been a while. You look… exhausted," she said gently. "Long day, I guess?"
A cart rattled past. Someone laughed, then hushed.
"It's good to see you Nimi." Navir replied, wearing a transparent façade of calm confidence.
"Hmmmm…" Nimi in hypocritical acknowledgement as she tried to move out of his way.
"I wanted to ask you something," Navir said, matching her stride when she tried to slip past him. His tone stayed calm, almost polite. "It's important."
Nimi smiled with practiced ease, adjusting the satchel on her shoulder. "You've picked the worst moment, Navir. I'm late."
"It's about the time readers," he said, evenly.
She stopped.
Her smile lingered, but it stiffened at the edges. "Time… what?" she echoed lightly.
"Navir, I've never talked to you about anything like that."
"You did, at dusk under the palm tree a few weeks ago." Navir replied.
She laughed again, soft and sincere in the way people sound when they want to believe themselves. "I'm a silk merchant," she added. "I don't trade in stories."
A passerby murmured, "That's him," and moved on.
Nimi slowed despite herself. "People are saying you're different, and now, I know it's true," she said slowly, eyes forward and remorseful.
"Different gets counted."
Navir stopped.
She had to stop too.
She faced him, voice low. "You do know what happens to people who change too fast, right?"
Navir reached home as dusk settled into the walls. The door creaked open.
"You're late," Arisha said from the kitchen, not looking up. "How was your day?"
He set his boots aside. "Long."
She gave a quiet hum, eyes lingering on him. "You look starved," she said, turning back to the stove. "Your food is in the thermos by the hearth, go serve yourself before it gets cold."
In the sitting room, Sorvan lounged close to the television, light flickering across his face. The screen blared.
"Sorvan, could you turn it down," Arisha called.
Sorvan quietly reached for the remote and lowered the volume, eyes still locked on the screen.
He didn't sense Navir's presence.
Night came quietly.
Sleep pulled Navir under, and dragged him somewhere wrong.
The classroom reformed around him, desks aligned, chalk dust hanging still. Final examinations. Months ago. Baasit sat two rows ahead, head bent, scribbling. His notebook pages flipped on their own, faster, faster, a dry wind whispering through paper.
Navir leaned forward.
As Baasit shifted, collar slipping, a crescent mark burned dark against his neck. It pulsed, alive, each beat sinking deeper into the room. The clock stopped ticking.
"Time," someone whispered.
Baasit's pen froze.
He turned.
His eyes locked onto Navir, knowing, accusing.
Navir gasped awake, breath tearing from his chest, the crescent still blazing behind his eyes.