In a dim apartment tucked inside Blüdhaven’s quieter streets, the alarm clock rang right on schedule.17Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡujbSjFpl2A
Jazz seeped from the radio—one of those mellow, slightly dusty tunes that sound like they’ve been playing since the 1950s.
Claire blinked herself awake. Her brown eyes were still cloudy with sleep, but her body was already moving, out of habit more than intent.17Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡWNvYe87OG3
— Another morning, just as unremarkable as the last. Her limbs knew what to do. Her thoughts hadn’t caught up yet.
She got up slowly, pulled on her clothes, and watered the plant by the window.17Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡfpStBHVBTn
— It looked like it had grown another inch. She always suspected it was secretly a cactus pretending to be something else.
By the time she reached the kitchen, the sky was barely awake—dark navy at the edges, with the faintest smear of light.17Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ5qfBcCzgXV
— The sky felt like her: still hitting snooze, refusing to fully rise.17Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡlrbneimQRK
Claire never liked the moment daylight really took over. It was too loud. Too confident.
She ran a café. Small, slightly crooked, hiding in a forgettable alley.17Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡQ8hgdajQQW
It used to be a secondhand store, left behind by her late aunt. Claire had turned it into something warm, something caffeinated.17Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡdA2mKQbHQ3
— Her aunt had... eccentric tastes. Claire never did figure out why she collected so many strange little things.
The only perk of the café’s location? It sat next to the Blüdhaven police precinct.17Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡF3rFtu2IVD
Which meant she could afford to stay open until 7 p.m., unlike most shops that shut down by three.17Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡVM5HYH9DOU
— Cops might be sarcastic as hell, but at least they order fast.17Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡzk8tHuGfxc
Way better than the afternoon crowd asking if she carried decaf-organic-soy-lattes while holding a shivering chihuahua.
When Claire took over the place, she didn’t know what to do with all the oddities left behind—prosthetic hands, glass eyeballs, and a music box that felt vaguely cursed.17Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡjqVvSXNYPY
She shoved most of it upstairs into the second-floor room.17Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡSQfqSzzAmK
— She never opened the music box. It always felt like it was waiting for her to mess something up.
She only used the first and third floors anyway.17Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡes4q6oYJmS
— Life had enough things she couldn’t control. As long as the building didn’t collapse, she wasn’t going to micromanage its haunted corners.
In the back kitchen, she pulled out yesterday’s dough and started shaping bagels.17Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ3uNbUOl6w2
The work rush would start soon.17Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ29xJMycdNX
— Dough was gentle. Predictable. You give it time, temperature, attention—it behaves.17Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡLLg979pE7i
People, not so much.
Claire felt oddly good that morning. Like maybe there’d be a steady stream of customers.17Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡChtGuAb0CD
— She was probably wrong. But a little self-deception before sunrise was better than starting the day already defeated.
She’d just finished lining up the bagels when the newspaper landed outside with a thud.17Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡYqSpQ6YHW4
She picked it up, glanced at the cover.
Nightwing.17Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡXgZAXPBKnR
Leaping mid-air, grinning like he knew the whole city was watching.17Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡrYGsBylh9V
Baton in hand. Camera focused squarely on his backside.
Claire…
— Rolled her eyes.17Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡc8BuAGj3i1
Did photographers forget faces existed? Or were asses genuinely more marketable now?
She tossed the paper onto the counter for whoever wanted it.17Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡNLUQtluFAb
— Whatever. That ass might end up more popular than her bagels today.
The bell over the door rang. First customer of the day.
Claire smiled. A regular. Middle-aged cop, heading into work.17Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ7l6E4CM2Hk
— Always ordered the same thing: two black coffees. One for himself. The other? Never said. Claire never asked.
And just like that, the day began.
—--------------------------
The alarm rang in the dim apartment.17Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡHm6rjQPJrb
The jazz tune came on again—mellow, familiar, almost too familiar.
Claire opened her eyes, brown and heavy with sleep, and forced herself upright.
— She’d heard this before. Yesterday.17Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡRm9A5eEojU
That saxophone bend into the chorus, the beat that tripped just slightly before the downbeat—she could hum along.
Jazz wasn’t Top 40. No one plays the same track two days in a row.17Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡES0c87CCy2
She frowned. Was it some jazz week promotion? A record label paying the station to loop the same song?
— No. This was lazy.17Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡoPsWogilIA
No edit, no transition. It picked up at the exact same spot as yesterday.
Claire sat up slowly. Her eyes were still half-closed, but her nerves were beginning to itch. Just enough to notice.
She dressed. Watered the window plant. Went downstairs.17Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡb3wz8RNfOI
Same as always.
She glanced out the window. The sky looked about right for the season—late dawn, pale at the edges.17Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡV8tuxQT9OM
Nothing too weird. Not yet.
She stepped into the kitchen and pulled out the dough.17Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ07wbBrmRr6
But stopped.
— That’s not right.
She remembered preparing chocolate dough last night. She wanted to make something sweet for Easter.17Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡYplllRAXIO
Added a pinch of cinnamon, too—just enough to give it depth.
But the dough in front of her? It was plain. Just like yesterday.
Maybe… she misremembered?17Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡe4zuPUG5LZ
Claire shrugged it off and started baking anyway.17Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡvRsN2s2Gup
— People get tired. Thoughts blur. Maybe she never made the chocolate batch at all.17Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡkh5IiMSBZP
No point snapping at herself. Bagels don’t care.
The paper arrived.
She picked it up. Froze.
— That photo. That angle.17Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡYeh326PZD9
That...ass.
She’d seen that picture.17Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡMJptWqswHM
Nightwing in midair, beaming like a rogue gymnast, baton in hand—camera lovingly focused on his backside.
Her temple twitched.
This was yesterday’s newspaper.
She remembered the exact thought from the morning before:17Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ1e6id1DW8u
“Do photographers even remember to shoot faces?”
It floated up again, uninvited.
She flipped the paper to check the date.17Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡg3X4PdGJW1
April 21st.
She looked toward the door, maybe to call after the delivery guy, but no one was there.17Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡS5ASqIbJqi
Too late.
Still frowning, she set the paper on the counter and walked back toward the register.
The bell jingled. First customer.17Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡsab473gr7I
Same man as yesterday.
Claire greeted him with a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.
“Hey Kyle,” she said. “You seen today’s paper?”
“Oh yeah,” he grinned. “That Nightwing kid again, huh?”
He glanced down at the cover and chuckled.
Claire swallowed her complaint about the mistaken delivery.17Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡjDG7xvk0SH
Maybe it was just a fluke.
She cleared her throat.17Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡiV9VazZue8
“Kyle…what’s today’s date?”
Kyle blinked, then gave a little laugh. “April 21st, Claire. Easter Sunday.17Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ1RaX0YVd7J
And hey—Happy Easter!”
Claire’s eyes widened.
— April 21st.17Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡEvexO6gx51
She was sure that was yesterday.
She wasn’t the kind of person who forgot holidays. She’d even drawn a stupid bunny on a sticky note in the back kitchen.17Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡBWMMQUh9VN
It was still there, taped to the counter. A reminder to push hot chocolate sales.
Her chest tightened.
Kyle was still smiling, saying something cheerful.17Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ6wf8rlRaFn
But she couldn’t hear him anymore.
Her mind had narrowed into one small, steady sentence:
— What the hell is going on?
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