The Glimpse of Past

There's a part of me that doesn't belong here. It's a feeling I've carried my whole life, a collection of memories that aren't mine. They are ghosts-blurry snapshots of a different time, different lives. People tell me it's just my imagination, but they don't see what I see. They don't hear the echoes I hear.

But of all the scattered fragments, there's one that's crystal clear. Him. He's the constant in my dreams, a face I know as well as my own, even though I've never met him. It sounds crazy, I know. A ghost from a past life. The problem is, he's not just in my memories anymore. I've seen him-in this time, in this world. And seeing him is proof that I'm not crazy; I'm just a part of a story that hasn't ended.