Ramses stood in the middle of the empty street, breathing deeply as the silence pressed against his ears. The world was still frozen. Cars remained mid-turn, people were statues, and the wind was forever trapped in an invisible pause. He had grown used to it—the lifeless calm, the ghostly stillness. But today, something felt wrong.
For weeks, maybe months—time no longer had a clear meaning—everything had been perfectly still. His routine became his anchor: training, reading, meditating, journaling. His body had transformed, his mind had sharpened, his spirit had grown. He thought he had reached peace with this endless solitude.
But then he saw it.
A leaf.
At first, he thought it was just his imagination. A single leaf, caught in midair between two buildings, where it had hovered since the freeze began. But as Ramses watched, the leaf trembled. Not much, just a tiny shiver, like a ripple on calm water. His chest tightened.
"No way," he whispered.
He blinked hard, rubbed his eyes, but when he looked again, the leaf had moved. Just a fraction. Barely noticeable, but it wasn't where it had been before.
Ramses stepped closer. His footsteps echoed too loudly in the silence, as if the world were holding its breath with him. He stared at the leaf, heart pounding, waiting. Then—another twitch.
It was real.
Something was changing.
The rest of the day, Ramses wandered through the city like a man seeing it for the first time. Every corner, every object, every frozen person—he inspected them carefully. At first, nothing else moved. But then he saw it again: the faintest ripple in a puddle of water on the sidewalk. He crouched, staring, until he was sure. The water shifted, just slightly, as though remembering how to flow.
The signs were small, but undeniable. The freeze was cracking.
And with that realization came fear.
For so long, he had begged for this moment. He had prayed for change, for release, for the world to wake up. He thought he wanted to hear voices again, to see movement, to feel alive among people. But now that it was here—his stomach twisted.
What if he wasn't ready?
What if the new Ramses he had built in this frozen world would collapse the moment reality returned?
He stood in front of a man frozen mid-stride, briefcase in hand. Ramses studied the stranger's expression: impatient, irritated, like he had somewhere more important to be. The kind of person Ramses used to avoid. Soon, people like this would breathe again, move again, talk again. Would Ramses fall back into the shadows?
He clenched his fists. "No," he muttered. "Not this time."
But deep inside, doubt whispered.
That night, Ramses returned to the rooftop where he often meditated. The city stretched endlessly beneath him, silent and motionless. The stars glittered above, cold and distant. He sat cross-legged, closing his eyes, trying to calm his racing thoughts.
He remembered his old life—college, failure, depression, wasted years. He had been a man drowning in regret, hiding behind excuses. This frozen world had forced him to confront himself. To rebuild. To survive.
And now, it was ending.
When he opened his eyes, the sky made him freeze in shock.
The stars… moved.
Not all at once, not fast. But slowly, steadily, the constellations were shifting, as if the universe itself had pressed "play." Ramses felt tears prick at the corners of his eyes. It was happening. Time was returning.
He whispered to the stars, "So it's true. This… this was only temporary."
His chest filled with both excitement and dread.
Over the next days—if they could still be called days—more signs appeared.
A bird's wing twitched in the sky.
The smell of food began to drift faintly from a restaurant where the steam had been frozen.
Even the air itself seemed different, heavier, carrying the faintest hint of motion.
Ramses wrote in his journal furiously, documenting every crack in the frozen world.
The world is waking up. I don't know how much time I have left. I thought I was ready, but I'm terrified. What if I lose everything I built? What if I go back to being him—the weak, anxious Ramses who wasted his life? No. I can't. I won't. This time, I fight.
On the fifth day of signs, Ramses returned to the park bench where he used to sit during his loneliest nights. The frozen pigeons were still clustered around the fountain. He sat quietly, waiting.
Then it happened.
One pigeon blinked.
It was so small, so quick, but Ramses saw it. The first blink in an eternity of stillness. His whole body shivered. He laughed, then sobbed, burying his face in his hands.
"It's coming," he whispered. "It's really coming."
For the first time in forever, he wasn't alone anymore—not completely. The world was on the edge of breathing again.
And Ramses realized: the end was near.
Not just the end of the frozen world. The end of this chapter of his life.
That night, as he lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling, his mind spun with questions.
Would people notice he had changed?
Would his family look at him the same way?
Would anyone understand the war he had fought in silence?
Or would they just see him as the same old Ramses—another failure trying to get by?
He closed his eyes, heart heavy, yet burning with determination.
"Whatever happens," he said aloud to the empty room, "I'm not going back. I've come too far. If the world wants to wake up, then let it. I'll be ready."
The silence didn't answer, but the faint hum in the air told him everything.
The cracks were spreading.
The countdown had begun.
And Ramses knew, this was only the first sign.