a familiar feeling.
I arrived in that city without knowing how. There were no signs, no terminal, no greeting other than the damp metallic smell that clung to the air. The sky was gray-blue, like a computer screen that had forgotten how to show an image. When I stepped off the bus—or perhaps it was a train, I couldn’t tell—I realized there was no vehicle behind me at all, as if I were the only passenger who’d crossed over from another world. The streets were empty, but not dead. A soft hum lingered, like a buried machine continuing its labor long after its purpose had been lost. In the distance, buildings stood tall, yet their shapes flickered, changing each time I looked away. The number of windows never stayed the same. I started walking with no direction. My shoes echoed against the pavement, but the echoes didn’t match my pace—one step from me, two from the air, as if someone else were imitating me from a few seconds behind. At the first corner stood a small café with frosted glass doors. The lette...
