By morning, the rain had thinned into a gray mist that clung to the rooftops. The town looked washed out, as if someone had turned down the brightness on everything.
Dev woke to the faint smell of incense. His mother must have gone to the temple early again. The fan above him spun lazily, each turn a little slower than the last. He sat up and checked his watch out of habit.
6:42 a.m.
He blinked. Looked again.
6:42 a.m.
He shook it once, and the second hand lurched forward—6:43.
When he left for school, the lanes were still slick with puddles. Stray dogs dozed under awnings. A milkman cycled past, his radio mumbling a song Dev had heard a hundred times, but the words didn't quite match the tune.
At the school gate, Meera stood under the neem tree, notebook in hand."You're early," she said.
He frowned. "No, I'm late."
She pointed toward the clock above the office. "It's seven fifteen. Assembly's at seven thirty."
Dev checked his watch again. Seven twenty-nine.
He turned it toward her, and she frowned. "That's… weird. Mine says seven thirteen."
The bell rang just then, cutting them off — but it sounded wrong somehow. Too short, like the clang had started halfway through itself.
In the courtyard, the students lined up in neat rows, voices rising for the prayer. The air felt thick again, like sound had to push its way through something unseen.
Halfway through the anthem, Dev looked up. The flag rope was trembling, same as before. Only this time, he knew it wasn't the wind.
When the song ended, there was a pause — a full second where nobody moved, not even the pigeons on the roof. Then the murmuring started, feet shifting, laughter returning, as if nothing had happened.
Beside him, Meera whispered, "Did you feel that?"
He nodded slowly. "Yeah."
She looked at him for a moment longer than usual. "You really should sleep more."
He tried to smile, but his watch ticked once — and skipped straight to the next minute.