Join to us...

I type back: “Define ‘flashed.’”

Outside my window, the streetlight flickers once. Twice. A rhythm I’ve heard before—in a dream, in a warning, in the space between heartbeats.

Since then: déjà vu stacking like dishes in a sink. My reflection waves at me a half-second late. I know what people will say before they say it. Yesterday, I predicted a car crash three blocks before it happened—not by logic, by echo .