"Sit properly."
We settled into our places, chairs scraping softly against the floor.
The table looked the same as always.
Long. Neat. Bowls already set.
Steam rose in thin lines, drifting upward before fading into the warmth of the room.
I reached for my spoon, then paused.
"…Did they move the table?"
The question slipped out before I could stop it.
The person beside me glanced over. "What?"
"The table," I said. "Doesn't it feel… different?"
They looked at it for a moment, then shrugged. "It's the same."
"…Are you sure?"
"Yeah."
A pause.
"…I think."
That didn't help.
Across from us, someone leaned forward. "What are you talking about?"
"They think the table moved," the one beside me said.
"It didn't."
"I know."
"Then why say it?"
"I just—" I stopped. "…It felt like it did."
A few of them looked around anyway.
Just for a second.
Then one of the older ones spoke. "You're overthinking."
"Maybe."
That was enough for the conversation to end.
Still—
I adjusted slightly in my seat.
There was more space than usual.
Or less.
I couldn't tell which.
The door opened.
Footsteps.
"Eat well."
"Thank you," some of us replied.
We began.
The food tasted the same as always—warm, soft, easy to swallow. Familiar in a way that didn't need thinking.
Spoons moved. Bowls slowly emptied.
Halfway through, someone nudged my arm.
"Move over."
I frowned. "There's space."
"Not enough."
"There is."
They hesitated.
"…There was more earlier."
I looked at them.
"What do you mean?"
"I don't know." They shifted slightly anyway. "Just move a bit."
I did.
Our shoulders brushed.
It felt… closer than usual.
Across the table, someone else spoke up.
"Why are we sitting like this?"
"Like what?"
"So close."
"We always sit like this."
"No, we don't."
"Yes, we do."
A pause.
"…Do we?"
No one answered that.
I glanced down the length of the table.
Everyone was there.
Talking. Eating. Moving like always.
Nothing looked different.
Nothing should have been different.
And yet—
I couldn't shake the feeling that something didn't line up.
Like a space that should have been filled.
Or wasn't.
I didn't know which one was worse.
"Finish everything."
We straightened slightly.
Spoons scraped the bottom of bowls.
Next to me, someone slowed down.
"Are you full already?" I asked.
"…No."
"Then eat."
They didn't move.
I looked at their bowl.
There was still a little left.
"Why aren't you eating?"
They stared at it.
"I thought there was more."
"There is."
"No, I mean—" They stopped. "…Never mind."
"That doesn't make sense."
"I know."
They forced themselves to continue.
The rest of us didn't say anything.
When we finished, we waited.
Chairs stayed still.
Hands rested against the table.
The room felt quieter again.
Not silent.
Just… less.
"Good," the voice said.
A pause.
"…Everyone is here."
No one reacted.
Not immediately.
But something about it lingered.
Like a thought that didn't fully form.
Beside me, the one who told me to move shifted slightly.
"…Of course we are," they muttered.
I nodded.
"Yeah."
"Clear."
We stood, gathering the bowls carefully.
I carried mine toward the side, placing it where the others went.
For a moment, I hesitated.
Looking at them.
They were arranged neatly.
Too neatly.
I counted without meaning to.
One.
Two.
Three—
I stopped.
"…Did you count?" someone asked behind me.
I turned. "What?"
"The bowls."
"No."
"You looked like you were."
"I wasn't."
"Oh."
A pause.
"…Do you think we should?"
I frowned. "Why would we?"
"I don't know."
"That doesn't make sense."
"Yeah."
Later, during rest, the room felt the same.
Rows. Spaces. Familiar positions.
I lay down where I always did.
Or where I thought I did.
Someone shifted nearby.
"Move a little."
"There's space."
"…Is there?"
I didn't answer.
I just moved.
I stared up at the ceiling.
The same faint marks.
The same quiet stillness.
Everything where it should be.
Everything exactly the same.
…
I think.
After a while, I closed my eyes.
Trying not to think about it.
About the table.
About the space.
About the way things didn't quite fit.
Just slightly.
Just enough to notice.
But not enough to understand.
Somewhere in the room, someone whispered:
"…Were we always this close?"
No one answered.