God's Blessing is a Curse

I was holding a thread.

Thin, golden, and impossibly delicate—it floated above my open palms, suspended in a black void where neither light nor shadow truly existed. No ceiling. No ground. Only the thread, glowing faintly like something remembered.

It pulsed, almost like it breathed, and with every flicker of light, I felt something stir deep in my chest. A yearning. A recognition I couldn't name.

I reached to follow it, but the moment I moved, the thread recoiled, the glow dimmed, and my hands trembled.

Behind me, I heard a voice.

"I'm sorry", he said.

I turned.

There was no one there.

And then—

I woke up.

***