Flickers of My Son

Time rifts started appearing in her kitchen at dawn. Small tears in reality, swallowing seconds

and minutes. Her son walked through one by accident. Now he exists scattered across different

moments. She can see him flickering. Five years old at breakfast.

Teenager doing homework. Adult she never got to meet. All at once. All unreachable.

She learns that time rifts follow patterns. They open where strong emotions

anchor to places. Her love created them. Her fear feeds them. A quantum physicist

explains the rifts are collapsing. When they close, her son will be erased from every

timeline. She has three days. She stops sleeping. Maps every rift in the house.