Nothing came from anywhere.
But something that had always been there started to be noticed—not because it arrived or changed anything, but because the idea that "only what is here can exist" quietly stopped being assumed.
It did not come from above or below.
It did not cross a boundary.
It did not begin.
It was simply there, and it did not add anything new.
Still, something felt slightly different—like a thought you never actually had, but you can still feel the outline of it.
It was not a presence you could point to.
It was not an absence of something else.
It was just a faint awareness that something existed in a way that had not been considered before.
Nothing reacted to it.
Nothing defended itself.
Nothing acknowledged anything.
There was no shift, no tension, no response.
If there had been such a thing as a boundary, it might have felt like something existed beyond it—not waiting, not trying to cross over, just existing.
