Every Time I Woke Up, the World Gained a Single Line
OngoingEvery time you wake up, something disappears from the world.
At first, it was just a small, nagging wrongness.
The *depth* that had always been there — gone overnight. The world reshaping itself, little by little, into something else entirely.
One dimension. Two. Three.
Even the basic rules of the world you'd always lived in can no longer be trusted.
Then one day, a person rendered flat as paper fixes their gaze on the protagonist and asks, voice trembling:
"Who is the other one living inside you?"
Has the world gone mad?
Or is it you?
With every shift in dimension, another secret peels away.
And at the end of it all — what is the *true reality* waiting to be found?
Every time I wake up, there's another line in the world. At first, it was nothing — just a thin line on the wall. But the next morning, it stretched across the room. The morning after that, it reached into the street. The strangest part? I'm the only one who can see it. No matter who I ask, the answer is always the same: *"There's nothing there."* Then I begin to notice: with each new line, something in this world shifts — subtly, almost imperceptibly. And then one morning, a line appears between me and my own reflection in the mirror. What are these lines? And when they all connect into one — what happens to the world?
