Ezra opened his eyes.
Above him, the crystal-glass chandelier hung from the ceiling, its edges catching the faint light that slipped through the curtains.
He remained on his back for a brief moment, staring at it without moving.
He remembered what he had seen.
Yet his expression remained unfazed, as though the scene that had occupied his mind had been nothing more than an ordinary occurrence.
A new memory.
Ezra thought silently.
It has been a while since I had a new memory, or even dreamt about my past-self's life.
He raised his right hand and examined his palm.
The room was still dark, with only a little light entering through the curtains.
To an ordinary person, the darkness would have made it difficult to see the details of their surroundings, but Ezra's sharp eyes could make out the shape of his fingers and the faint lines running across his palm.
He turned his hand slightly, then closed it into a fist before lowering it.
There was nothing unusual about his hand.
