Most endings don’t arrive the way we imagine them.
They don’t crash through the sky or announce themselves with noise.
They happen quietly… almost politely.
A clock begins to drip its hours into the ground.
The sky stays calm.
The sun keeps shining like nothing is wrong.
A cow keeps grazing.
A cat watches from a branch.
Life continues in its small, ordinary ways, the way it always does, even when something much bigger is quietly slipping out of place.
Maybe that’s the strange truth about time.
We think it moves in clean circles, ticking forward the way it always has. But sometimes it softens, melts, loosens its grip on the world, and the hours we thought were solid start sliding away before we even notice.
And the frightening part isn’t that time disappears.
It’s how calmly everything else keeps going while it does.
Which leaves a question hanging in the air, almost too simple to ignore:
If time slowly slipped out of the world today… would you even notice before it was already gone?