tao is a regular at cafe kafka. he’s seated in the corner booth almost every day by ten, newspaper and camera next to a cup of freshly brewed coffee, ready to spend his hours people watching and gathering inspiration for his next series. 

as a freelance photographer, he can never really stop creating, and his most recent works are focused around a black and white theme. stripping away the color and artificiality of life in an attempt to capture a piece of the soul, he’s spent many days behind his lens in the pursuit of art.

his hours shrink into minutes, his minutes stretch into hours, and time escapes tao yet again. 

the clock is always too fast or too slow, it seems. an entire day spent developing film only turns out to last a few hours, and an hour in his studio becomes an entire day. he chalks it all up to spending too much time in a darkroom, but sometimes he wonders if time has a personal agenda against him.

church bells ring ten times a few buildings over as he fans out a set of photos he had recently developed, beverage left on the side of the table to grow cold. monochrome images cover the empty spaces, arranged by time taken, featuring figures wandering the streets of barcelona. as he takes a closer look at two photos taken mere seconds apart from each other, he notices an anomaly. a man wearing a black coat walks with everyone else in the first photo, but is absent in the second photo. he decides to not think much of it—people move fast in barcelona, especially when they have somewhere to go. however, a smudge in the photo between concerns him. where the figure had once been remains nothing but a blur, as if the space had caved in on itself and swallowed whatever was there, leaving a gaping hole behind. 

frowning, tao wonders if he might need a new camera. 

he rubs absentmindedly at his wrist as he inspects the other photos, fiddling with an invisible watch. the only one he owned had broken awhile ago, around the same time as he was doing his study of the moon’s phases, and he hadn’t scraped together enough funds to replace it yet. any money he earns goes into his camera’s upkeep and the application fees for magazines. 

hours must have passed before he’s satisfied with his selection of photos and carefully sorts them back into a folder. he picks up the complimentary paper from the cafe and glances at headlines while sipping at his strangely warm coffee. 

“Upcoming Model “KAI” Mysteriously Disappears! Sources Claim He Vanished Into Thin Air…”

“Crops in China Experiencing An Alarmingly Low Survival Rate…”

“UFO Lights Spotted In At Least 10 Countries Around The World…”

“Arizona Wildfire Ravishes National Park; Victim Speaks Up…”

“Temperatures in Berlin Reach an All-Time Low, Authorities Caution Citizens…”

it’s all buzzwords, the equivalent of online clickbait, and the only article that interests him is one about the recent lunar eclipse. his series documenting the phases of the moon leading up to the eclipse was accepted recently and he was pleased to actually see it in the local paper, even though he only made the third page. 

he’s barely halfway through the article when a light fixture above him shatters, sending shards of glass raining down. instinctively, he raises the paper to cover his face. 

when he lowers it, he witnesses the most curious scene—his fingers twitch by his sides, but he can’t seem to bring himself to grab his camera and capture the moment, too overwhelmed. glass is suspended mid-air, and no one else in the cafe seems perturbed. in fact, they’re doing nothing at all, completely still in whatever motion they were executing before the explosion. it’s like he’s viewing a snapshot of one of his own works, and it’s a little more than unsettling.

he must be seeing things.

it feels like it takes an eternity for him to slowly get up, sliding his bag over his shoulder and walking softly as if the picture perfect scene would break if he made too much noise. an employee is polishing a cup when tao brushes past him, breaking through the doors and reentering a world where the sands of time flowed steadily. 

it’s 10:10 when he leaves and the cup hits the floor, scattering into dozens of pieces on impact.