Atris woke up before the alarm went off.
He opened his eyes slowly, staring at the ceiling.
He didn't move right away... as if he were waiting for something that never came.
After a moment, he sat up.
The light came through the window the same way it did every day.
The same angle.
The same intensity.
Even the dust particles seemed suspended in their usual places, unchanged.
He ran a hand over his face and got up without rushing.
In the kitchen, everything was in order.
Too much in order.
The white cup sat almost exactly at the center of the table—neither too close to the edge nor too far.
The spoon lay beside it at a precise angle.
The bread was arranged evenly, as if it had been cut with unnecessary care.
Atris paused for a moment.
He felt... that this arrangement wasn't random.
Then he sat down, as if the thought didn't matter.
He took a bite slowly.
Chewed.
Swallowed.
Looked at the cup.
For a second, he felt like he had seen it somewhere else.
But he didn't try to remember.
He picked it up and drank.
He stepped outside.
The morning air was cool and light, and the city was as quiet as ever.
Eidos looked clean.
Ordered.
Silent... in a comforting way.
People moved smoothly.
Their steps were close.
Their pace nearly identical.
No one stopped abruptly.
No one changed direction without reason.
Atris walked among them.
For a brief moment, the person in front of him slowed down...
Then continued at the same pace, as if the pause had never happened.
Atris blinked once.
Then kept walking.
He passed by a shop he saw every day.
He looked at it.
Stopped.
He didn't know why.
The front was normal.
The glass was clean.
Nothing stood out.
And yet...
He tried to remember if he had ever been inside.
He couldn't.
He looked away and kept going.
At the crossing, he stopped, waiting for the light.
Beside him stood a man holding a black bag.
They were perfectly aligned.
When the light turned green, they moved at the same moment.
Almost the same step.
Atris noticed.
But didn't comment.
He reached the school.
The white building stood before him—simple, clean, without unnecessary detail.
He entered with the other students.
The sounds were low.
The movements measured.
Everything flowed as it should.
In the classroom, he sat in his seat.
Set down his bag.
Took out his pen...
Then stopped.
He looked at it.
Strangely, it felt like he had used it moments ago.
But he was still holding it for the first time that morning.
He frowned slightly...
Then ignored the thought.
"Do you have an extra pen?"
The voice came from beside him.
Atris looked up.
A student sat next to him—completely ordinary features.
A face that didn't stand out.
He looked at him for a second...
Longer than necessary.
Then he took out another pen and handed it over.
"Here."
The student gave a faint smile.
"Thanks."
Then turned forward, as if nothing had happened.
The lesson began.
The teacher's voice was steady.
Neither rising nor falling.
The words passed easily.
The minutes... passed.
Or maybe they didn't.
Atris wasn't sure how much time had gone by.
At one point, he glanced slightly at the student beside him.
Just to make sure...
He was still there.
He was.
Writing quietly.
Atris looked forward again.
The day ended.
He left the school.
The same road.
The same streets.
The same quiet.
Near a corner close to his house, his steps slowed.
He looked around.
Everything was in its place.
Nothing missing.
Nothing extra.
He stopped for a moment.
It felt like a thought was very close...
On the verge of forming.
Then it disappeared.
He returned home.
At night, he lay on his bed.
Staring at the ceiling.
The same ceiling.
The same dim light.
He closed his eyes slowly.
There was nothing to worry about.
...
And that was exactly what bothered him.