A strange object

March 2024

My life has settled into a routine that, if I'm honest, is comforting in its predictability.

Gym in the mornings, university lectures in the afternoons, and the quiet solace of my apartment in the evenings.

After everything that happened last year, this sense of normalcy is a welcome change.

I'm on track to becoming an accountant, a far cry from the chaos that used to define my life.

Yet, there's an unease that lingers, a feeling that something is off.

Milei took office a few months ago, and I've been watching closely.

I believed in his vision—finally, someone who dared to call out the parasites in politics, those who've bled this country dry for decades. The man has guts, I'll give him that. But guts alone won't fix this mess. I see him trying, but the system is like a beast that devours even the most well-intentioned. Sometimes I wonder if he'll be just another name in a long list of disappointments, another cog in the machine.

The discussions with my friends are almost always about him.

Over beers, we dissect every move Milei makes. Most of them are more cynical than I am, but I can't help but feel that maybe—just maybe—things could change. Then again, I've always been a realist. I know that politics is a dirty game, and no matter how clean you start, it's only a matter of time before the filth sticks to you.

But lately, our conversations have shifted.

It's not just about Milei or the economy anymore; it's about the strange things happening all over the world.

People disappearing, shadows that move on their own, sounds that no one can explain.

The media is full of speculation—conspiracies, supernatural theories, you name it. I don't buy into most of it, but there's a part of me that can't ignore what's going on. It's like the world is holding its breath, waiting for something to happen.

I've noticed the unease in my friends too, though most of them try to laugh it off. We joke about it, but there's a tension in the air, an undercurrent of fear that no one wants to acknowledge.

It's not just the disappearances; it's the feeling that we're on the brink of something big, something none of us are prepared for.

Yesterday, after a particularly hard workout, I took a different route home.

I needed to clear my head, to think about something other than Milei, politics, or the strange reports on the news.

The streets were quieter than usual, almost eerie in their stillness. That's when I saw it—something glinting on the sidewalk under a streetlamp.

I bent down to pick it up and found a watch, but not just any watch. This thing was… different. It was heavy in my hand, made of some metal I couldn't identify, with strange symbols etched into the surface. As I held it, I felt a strange sensation, like I'd seen it before, but I couldn't place where. It was unsettling, yet I couldn't bring myself to put it down.

There was something about this watch that drew me in, something that felt almost familiar. I slipped it into my pocket and continued home, but the feeling lingered. When I got back, I placed it on my bedside table. The faint glow it emitted cast shadows on the wall, twisting and shifting in ways that made my skin crawl.

I couldn't sleep that night. My mind kept returning to the watch, turning over the events of the day, and the feeling that this wasn't just some random find. There was a connection there, something I couldn't explain but also couldn't ignore. The next morning, I found myself carrying the watch with me. It felt like a secret, something only I knew about, and for some reason, I didn't want to share it with anyone.

As the days passed, the watch never left my side. It became a constant presence, a reminder that something was changing. I noticed little things—a chill in the air, the way shadows seemed to move just out of sight, the feeling of being watched when I knew I was alone. My friends talked about the strange events happening around the world, but I kept quiet about the watch. What would I even say?

Last night, after another round of beers with the guys, I sat in my apartment and pulled out the watch again. This time, as I stared at it, something clicked. A memory, or maybe a dream, I'm not sure. I've seen this watch before, not in a store or on someone's wrist, but in my mind. It's like it's always been there, waiting for me to find it.

The realization sent a chill down my spine. I don't know what it means, but I can't shake the feeling that this watch is important—more important than anything else in my life right now. It's like a key, but to what, I have no idea. All I know is that my life, this routine I've built, is about to change, and I'm not sure I'm ready for what's coming.