Reincarnated

Will always follows a standard routine, walk to school at 8, leave school at 3, stop by the bakery near his house, go to the park to feed the pigeons, walk home, have dinner with his dad, go to sleep, repeat. His life was so centered around patterns that it even seeped into his dreams. Every night, he would hear the rush of water but would see nothing. Almost like there was a black mist in front of him. His arms would reach out, flailing around like he's trying to grab something. His limps were beyond his control, all he could do was watch himself desperately reach out yet never grab ahold of anything. Finally, he would jerk awake and when he went to rub his eyes tears would stain his hands.