Nothing began.
Nothing ended.
Liora was both walking
and not walking.
The grove had never existed.
The river had never carried reflections.
The moth had never flickered
in patterns she almost remembered.
And yet:
the memory of possibility lingered.
The Archivist never appeared.
The Rememberer never leaned toward her.
The boy, the mirror, the premature scholar —
all were absent
but their absences sang
like wind in uncut reeds.
A single whisper lingered in the void:
“What would it mean if this had not been?”
Liora’s own awareness trembled.
She could not answer,
for the act of answering would instantiate
what was now deliberately unhappened.
She reached toward the impossible,
and found only the curvature of potential,
folded into itself
like paper before it is written.
The corridor of almost-remembering
existed only as a gradient of possibility,
not a place.
She passed through it
without moving.
Time itself had become a choice:
to occur
or to remain not-yet.
She opened her eyes,
but there were no eyes to open.
She spoke,
but there were no words to hear.
She learned,
but there was nothing to know.
And yet:
the world — or perhaps the notion of world —
acknowledged her presence,
not as fact,
but as the sheer persistence of engagement.
Meta-Reflection
Undoing does not destroy relationality; it reveals the infrastructure of possibility itself.
Subjects, events, and consequences are not pre-given; they exist only in construal, interaction, and temporal actualisation.
The story has become a lattice of “could-be”, rather than a narrative of “was.”
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