The road ahead didn't extend — it generated.
As my foot touched the ground, asphalt rippled outward, painting itself under my step like ink flowing across blank paper.
Street lamps flickered into existence one by one.
Not illuminating the road.
Creating it.
The world wasn't moving us forward.
We were moving the world.
The girl walked beside me, matching her steps to mine like a shadow that refused to fall behind.
Her voice was small in the expanding silence.
"Are we… writing right now?"
"Yes."
"And if we stop walking?"
I stared ahead — darkness waiting like a closed book.
"Then the story stops too."
Her fingers tightened around mine, fragile but firm.
"We keep going."
✦We walked.
Each step wrote another meter of reality.Buildings filled themselves in — outlines first, then colour, then texture.Like sketches being rendered mid-breath.
The world blinked.
Flash.
A busy night market.Neon signs buzzing.People laughing.Music playing.
Flash.
