In a dim apartment tucked inside Blüdhaven’s quieter streets, the alarm clock rang right on schedule.206Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡOIuMDPLbOv
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.206Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡpuSBSb8yFe
— 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.206Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡMVAL9BPcdP
— 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.206Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡD9B0qi2STi
— The sky felt like her: still hitting snooze, refusing to fully rise.206Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡkDJtfDLxSD
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.206Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡVzOE0FsICH
It used to be a secondhand store, left behind by her late aunt. Claire had turned it into something warm, something caffeinated.206Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡn5aWYcsCpX
— 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.206Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡQIP7zc63Q7
Which meant she could afford to stay open until 7 p.m., unlike most shops that shut down by three.206Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡnBHs5JI0X4
— Cops might be sarcastic as hell, but at least they order fast.206Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡWQEUxiAEGC
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.206Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡJpr4reArds
She shoved most of it upstairs into the second-floor room.206Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡfpMJJdHOFj
— 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.206Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡkMbmQQAoLO
— 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.206Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ9DfOzerinE
The work rush would start soon.206Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡUB7QujehXP
— Dough was gentle. Predictable. You give it time, temperature, attention—it behaves.206Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡFkuwaPziVa
People, not so much.
Claire felt oddly good that morning. Like maybe there’d be a steady stream of customers.206Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡYLYZcw5xzC
— 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.206Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ4YKJfsxcPm
She picked it up, glanced at the cover.
Nightwing.206Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡl3HIvU4MIs
Leaping mid-air, grinning like he knew the whole city was watching.206Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡCgVXbtvz8f
Baton in hand. Camera focused squarely on his backside.
Claire…
— Rolled her eyes.206Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡFwfchsMhAg
Did photographers forget faces existed? Or were asses genuinely more marketable now?
She tossed the paper onto the counter for whoever wanted it.206Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡXP6vF9d70d
— 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.206Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡlaINA69LbG
— 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.206Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡGJqEMy32bI
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.206Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡYYjsQxhop3
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.206Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡqqM2JlOSpE
She frowned. Was it some jazz week promotion? A record label paying the station to loop the same song?
— No. This was lazy.206Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡlWTdkRkBYf
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.206Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡteoehRV9CC
Same as always.
She glanced out the window. The sky looked about right for the season—late dawn, pale at the edges.206Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡZJfzhCuMPo
Nothing too weird. Not yet.
She stepped into the kitchen and pulled out the dough.206Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡkyUpxV1AcT
But stopped.
— That’s not right.
She remembered preparing chocolate dough last night. She wanted to make something sweet for Easter.206Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡapyRU7Hprm
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?206Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡV8wrrhJp3s
Claire shrugged it off and started baking anyway.206Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡghAqCMoK45
— People get tired. Thoughts blur. Maybe she never made the chocolate batch at all.206Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ7njmE8Yah3
No point snapping at herself. Bagels don’t care.
The paper arrived.
She picked it up. Froze.
— That photo. That angle.206Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ4B7DsI94P7
That...ass.
She’d seen that picture.206Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡnMpkIk1KmR
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:206Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡTyNfH4m6KT
“Do photographers even remember to shoot faces?”
It floated up again, uninvited.
She flipped the paper to check the date.206Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡB7YA5n0aoe
April 21st.
She looked toward the door, maybe to call after the delivery guy, but no one was there.206Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ5u5LWSHutM
Too late.
Still frowning, she set the paper on the counter and walked back toward the register.
The bell jingled. First customer.206Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡm0PB7pWEGK
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.206Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡGNf9dWzJ7z
Maybe it was just a fluke.
She cleared her throat.206Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡT0mZDzan05
“Kyle…what’s today’s date?”
Kyle blinked, then gave a little laugh. “April 21st, Claire. Easter Sunday.206Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡvVhKKr3Rkb
And hey—Happy Easter!”
Claire’s eyes widened.
— April 21st.206Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ902P5W0mC5
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.206Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡCGaRpcNS8T
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.206Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡrD0g2FIp89
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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