Devendra moved through the hallways of his school almost like a ghost. He passed lockers, scattered papers, the hum of fluorescent lights overhead, but he felt neither fully present nor fully absent. His steps were measured, careful, as though he were navigating a current he could not see.
Teachers called his name sometimes, classmates waved, but it was all distant, like watching through a fogged window. Even laughter from the cafeteria echoed faintly, a sound he could recognize but could not fully feel.
Breaks found him wandering to the park nearby. The swings moved slightly in the breeze, leaves rustled softly, and he sat on a bench, observing without touching. He watched a child kick a ball, an elderly man feeding pigeons, but he remained separate—half observer, half participant, floating through moments that should have anchored him.
At home, it was similar. Meals were eaten quietly. His mother moved around, bustling through chores, her presence comforting but not grounding. Devendra noticed everything—the angle of light across the kitchen tiles, the slight creak of floorboards—but he moved through it like a shadow passing over familiar terrain.
Evenings were the hardest. When the world outside dimmed, and the faint glow of streetlamps filtered through his window, he sometimes caught a glimpse of the moon. One night, barely visible at first, it glowed a deep, unnatural red. He blinked, convinced he was imagining it, yet the color lingered in his vision, pulsing faintly with his heartbeat. He did not speak of it; he did not need to.
Inside, he scanned himself again, cataloging every twitch of tension, every echo of memory. He was slowly forming a sense of order, mapping the currents of his past trauma, and yet the days continued in that suspended, liminal state—half childhood, half memory, fully haunted.
Even so, a small part of him noticed the continuity: the world did not stop, and neither had he. Perhaps, he thought, floating like this was a kind of survival. He had not yet fully returned, but he had not fully vanished, either.
And as the red moon faded from view, just a faint smudge behind the curtain of clouds, Devendra exhaled quietly. One day, he might step fully into the current of life again. But for now, he floated, watched, remembered—and waited.