The forgotten minutes between night and dawn

The world exists in a hush before the dawn. It is a time neither claimed by night nor morning, a forgotten interlude where time slows and silence settles deep into the bones of the earth.

In these minutes, the stars are reluctant to leave, their shimmering bodies whispering secrets to the sleeping world. The moon, dim and weary, lingers as though reluctant to surrender the sky. Shadows stretch and dissolve, uncertain of their place.

Mira knew these minutes well. She had always been drawn to them, slipping out of bed while the world still dreamed. Wrapped in a shawl, she would step onto the balcony, breathing in the crisp air, the scent of damp earth and fading moonlight. It was in these moments that she felt closest to something ancient and unseen, something that pulsed beneath reality’s surface.

This morning was different. She sensed it as soon as she opened her eyes. The quiet wasn’t just quiet—it was expectant. A breath held. A pause in creation.

She leaned on the railing, eyes scanning the horizon. The sky was an indigo canvas, the edges kissed by the faintest trace of gold. But something moved in the darkness, something just beyond the veil of perception. A shift. A flicker.

Mira shivered. It wasn’t cold, yet a chill ran through her. It was as if she were standing on the threshold of two worlds.

Then, a whisper.

Soft as a sigh.

She turned sharply, but no one was there. Only the empty balcony, the silent street below, the deep blue dome of the sky. But she knew what she had heard.

Mira’s breath hitched.

The figure raised a hand, and for a heartbeat, she saw everything—

The weight of forgotten dreams.

The sigh of stars falling into the sea.

The stories left untold, lingering in the space before sunrise.

Then, the first bird sang.

The minutes between night and dawn. The moments that whispered, yet were never heard.

And now, she would remember them.

She listened, heart pounding. And then, she saw it.

A figure stood at the edge of the rooftop across from hers. Cloaked in twilight, it was neither solid nor shadow, as if made of the moments slipping between time. It didn’t move, yet she felt its attention, its awareness.

Mira’s breath hitched.

The figure raised a hand, and for a heartbeat, she saw everything—

The weight of forgotten dreams.

The sigh of stars falling into the sea.

The stories left untold, lingering in the space before sunrise.

Then, the first bird sang.

A single, fragile note piercing the veil.

The figure vanished, dissolving into the light. The sky had changed—black softened to lavender, gold bleeding into the horizon. The forgotten minutes had passed.

Mira stood there, shaken, but somehow… whole.

The world awoke around her, but she remained, listening to the echoes of something unspoken.

For she had seen what few ever noticed.

A figure stood at the edge of the rooftop across from hers. Cloaked in twilight, it was neither solid nor shadow, as if made of the moments slipping between time. It didn’t move, yet she felt its attention, its awareness.

Mira’s breath hitched.

The figure raised a hand, and for a heartbeat, she saw everything—

The weight of forgotten dreams.

The sigh of stars falling into the sea.

The stories left untold, lingering in the space before sunrise.

Then, the first bird sang.

The minutes between night and dawn. The moments that whispered, yet were never heard.

And now, she would remember them.