On an ordinary afternoon, on a grassy hill with his dog, the world slips sideways.
No one else notices. Salt tastes like a laboratory. The childhood book he loved has never existed. A coworker wears a scar from a motorcycle he never owned. And his eleven-year-old, who has never once carried their bag upstairs, suddenly does.
After dark, in a narrow bookstore, a nurse in a uniform decades out of date tells him the fit repairs itself. Soon he won't remember that anything changed at all.
The problem is, this world is kinder. And the door back is closing.
Confluence is a quiet, haunting novel about memory, family, and the terrible mercy of almost.