short fiction · 2026-10-28

Infinite Echoes

Written in free time, from: Creative writing

The city’s hum settled like a low chord as I sat on the porch, watching streetlights flicker in patterns that reminded me of code looping back on itself. Each memory — a game lost, a book half‑read, a quiet thought — felt like a move in a tic‑tac‑toe match where three choices decide an outcome, yet the board always resets after a single slip. I imagined recursion as a river that circles its source, each eddy feeding the next, and sensed the efficiency of a well‑tuned system humming beneath the night. In that pause, truth emerged not from certainty but from the simple act of noticing how loops can both bind and free.