Reality

2023-10-30

Chapter 8: Mirage

"It's clear we can't keep meeting here," David said, his eyes meeting Alice's and Jacob's in turn. "We need somewhere off-grid, a place Sean's unlikely to influence."

Alice, her gaze still lingering on the library shelves, nodded thoughtfully. "Somewhere static, where we can talk without looking over our shoulders."

Jacob leaned forward with a suggestion, "What about the old art room on the third floor? Since the arts wing got that makeover, it's pretty much been abandoned."

The idea seemed to resonate with both David and Alice. The old art room, a relic of the school's past, was secluded enough to offer them the privacy they needed.

"We'll check it out after school," David decided, a sense of resolve in his voice. "If it's as deserted as you say, it could be our new base."

The final bell of the day rang, its familiar chime echoing through the halls. David, Alice, and Jacob made their way to the third floor, an area of the school less frequented by the student body. The hallway leading to the old art room felt like a time capsule, with faded posters from past school events peeling off the walls.

Reaching the art room, David cautiously pushed open the door. The room, bathed in the golden light of the setting sun streaming through dust-covered windows, was a scene of quiet nostalgia. Easels stood in rows, some still clutching tattered remnants of canvas, while shelves lined with forgotten art supplies cast long, slanting shadows across the floor.

The room held a sense of serene isolation, a stark contrast to the bustling corridors they had just left. It was as if they had stepped into a different world.

"This is perfect," Alice whispered, her voice echoing slightly in the spacious room. She walked in, her steps stirring up small clouds of dust. "It feels... stable, like it's been left out of the school's narrative."

Jacob followed, running his hand along a dusty shelf. "Yeah, like a forgotten chapter," he mused, his tone softened by the room's ambiance.

David stepped in last, closing the door gently behind them. The soft click of the latch seemed to separate them from the rest of the school, encasing them in a bubble of the past. He looked around, taking in the remnants of creativity and expression that once filled the room. "It's like stepping back in time," he remarked, his voice a mix of wonder and relief.

The sun's rays, filtering through the dusty windows, painted the room in a warm, amber hue. It lent an air of tranquility to the space.

Alice moved to a window, brushing away the dust to peer outside. The view of the school grounds was different from this vantage point, more detached.

Jacob, exploring the room, opened a drawer to find old brushes and paints, their colors faded but still vibrant. He picked up a brush, twirling it between his fingers. "We might have just found our command center," he said with a faint smile.

As the last rays of the sun vanished, casting the art room into a shadowy embrace, David, Alice, and Jacob found themselves sitting in a makeshift circle on the dusty floor. The remnants of the day's golden light filtered through the grime-covered windows, painting their faces in a melancholy hue.

David, lost in thought, absentmindedly traced lines in the dust with his finger. His doodles, aimless and intricate, were a silent language of his inner turmoil. Alice watched him, her eyes reflecting the dim light, "I used to do that as a kid, draw in the dirt when I was thinking or worried," she remarked softly, a hint of nostalgia in her voice.

Her words hung in the air, a bridge to memories of a simpler time. David looked up, his eyes meeting hers, "Yeah? I guess some habits never really leave us," he responded, a half-smile flickering on his lips.

Alice leaned back against an old easel, her gaze drifting. "In my timeline, I had a dog, Rufus. He'd sit with me when I did this. It's strange... remembering things that don't exist here." Her voice was a whisper.

Jacob, who had been quietly listening, spoke up, his voice tinged with a rare vulnerability. "I keep thinking, what if we're not even in the same reality, David? What if each shift...," he trailed off, the unsaid words heavy with implication.

David's hand stilled, the dust settling around his finger. "I know," he murmured, "I think about that too. Are we friends in all realities? Or just this one?"

The question lingered unanswered, each of them retreating into their private worlds of 'what ifs.' The room, with its echoes of forgotten art and abandoned dreams, felt like a reflection of their own uncertain existences.

Suddenly, a distant sound echoed through the hallway outside, snapping them back to the present. Instinctively, they all stood up, their brief moment of vulnerability sealed away under layers of guarded expressions and unspoken fears.

As they filed out of the art room, the weight of their shared and individual insecurities was palpable. The hallway outside was dimly lit, the shadows long and deep. They walked side by side, each lost in their thoughts. The vulnerability they had shared was like a fragile glass now tucked away, hidden but ever-present.