Elias tried to call for help, but the keypad on his phone was a jumbled mess of trapezoids and squished ovals. He couldn’t tell where the numbers began or ended. He was trapped in a funhouse mirror that had swallowed reality whole. 🚪 The Vanishing Point
It had started with small objects. A coffee mug on his desk that suddenly looked oval instead of round. A book on his shelf that seemed to lean at an impossible angle, though its spine remained perfectly straight. Elias had dismissed it as eye strain or fatigue. distorted shape
He pressed his forehead against the wooden door. He closed his eyes and tried to remember the simple, rigid shapes of the world he once knew: the sharp right angle of a table, the perfect grid of the city, the reassuring circle of a clock. When he opened them, the door was gone entirely, replaced by a swirling, shapeless void of color. Elias tried to call for help, but the