Absent

Six Months Earlier…

I didn’t black out. I remember that. I think.

I was standing, but the ground wasn’t flat. Not sloped either. Just wrong. Like it couldn’t agree where it was.

I reached for the camera—it wasn’t there. Not around my neck. Not in my hands. But the strap still left a mark.

I blinked. One image showed up on a screen I hadn’t seen before. Floating? Projected? No—embedded in the air.

Click.

My hands twitched. Empty. But it recorded something. A frame I didn’t set up. A place I hadn’t noticed.

I stepped forward.

The scene adjusted. A second image appeared. Same view. Slightly different tilt. As if someone was trying to remember it harder.

I turned in place. Slowly. Like my body had to catch up.

Then I heard the wind. But it had no direction. It just... hovered.

A glimmer caught my eye. Something in the air. No substance, but it pulled light toward it. Bent outlines. Held shape like it missed being solid.

I reached again.

There was pressure—like my hand had filled a glove. The grip of something familiar. Except it ended too soon. Just the shape of where a camera should have been.

Error.

A soundless click. Then static.

Another image appeared. This one was empty. A blank shot. Nothing there. Just grain.

I looked down.

My shadow was gone.

The next photo appeared. It showed me. Just me. Standing still. No camera. No shadow. No reflection.

I closed my eyes. Didn’t mean to. But when I opened them—

The image was still there.

Except now it was blinking.

And I wasn’t in it anymore.