I pulled over because the sky looked wrong — too bright for tha…

I pulled over because the sky looked wrong — too bright for that hour, like someone turned a dimmer up behind the trees. Three lights hung above the treeline in a perfect triangle, not blinking, not drifting. They weren’t “up there” like stars either… more like they were closer than they should be, sitting in the air with weight. My car radio started hissing. Not static — like a whisper trying to be words. The lights rotated as one unit, slow and smooth, then stopped instantly like a switch flipped. No wobble. No correction. I remember thinking: If this is a drone, why do I feel like I’m being watched? That’s the part I hate admitting. It felt personal. Then everything went quiet. No insects. No wind. I checked my phone and it was frozen on 2:11. I blinked and the triangle was gone. Just… gone. The trees were dark again and the radio snapped back to the station mid-song like nothing happened. When I got home, my dash clock was six minutes ahead. I’ve never been able to shake the feeling those six minutes weren’t just “lost time.” It felt like I left my body in the car and came back slightly out of sync.