The Caffeine Time-Dilation Protocol

The city is a frozen paradox, existing simultaneously in winter and autumn as I walk the path that hasn't happened yet. My coat reflects the light of stars from galaxies long dead while my coffee holds heat generated by beans roasted yesterday—time flows backward here. He told me to wait until we met so he could fall in love with me before I ever loved him back, a beautiful logical error where the effect precedes the cause.

I sip this bitter warmth and feel nothing but déjà vu; my skin remembers his touch from three weeks ago even though our hands have never touched. The shiny fabric of my jacket doesn't just hide my shape—it hides me in plain sight within an infinite loop of 'almost there' moments, where the only thing real is the heat rising up to meet a cold that hasn't arrived.

Editor: Paradox