In a dim apartment tucked inside Blüdhaven’s quieter streets, the alarm clock rang right on schedule.514Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡwCmJ0GzChy
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.514Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡLdHsXIbM2q
— 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.514Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡWsfzLbx2t3
— 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.514Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ4FZAfDdZF5
— The sky felt like her: still hitting snooze, refusing to fully rise.514Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡvBKCq62RVa
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.514Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡIjDr6pISGy
It used to be a secondhand store, left behind by her late aunt. Claire had turned it into something warm, something caffeinated.514Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡWhh0aKmbhR
— 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.514Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡHlLRaThvDr
Which meant she could afford to stay open until 7 p.m., unlike most shops that shut down by three.514Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡaaEeN9k34a
— Cops might be sarcastic as hell, but at least they order fast.514Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡgstuPt6AYv
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.514Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ4ovSsvUKTV
She shoved most of it upstairs into the second-floor room.514Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡMxnqaQV7c7
— 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.514Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡRYZQPeN77x
— 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.514Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡgvPcgGQScW
The work rush would start soon.514Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡhoIVnTbuaM
— Dough was gentle. Predictable. You give it time, temperature, attention—it behaves.514Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡhlDtfUcmnh
People, not so much.
Claire felt oddly good that morning. Like maybe there’d be a steady stream of customers.514Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡZt6VRdXaEe
— 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.514Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡnBJ2CkHlU4
She picked it up, glanced at the cover.
Nightwing.514Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡzGuzPrRBv2
Leaping mid-air, grinning like he knew the whole city was watching.514Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡhUsaNGkeIN
Baton in hand. Camera focused squarely on his backside.
Claire…
— Rolled her eyes.514Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡAzgNg3BWBj
Did photographers forget faces existed? Or were asses genuinely more marketable now?
She tossed the paper onto the counter for whoever wanted it.514Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡuIwdfEG0z6
— 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.514Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡFG4W7Am3Yv
— 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.514Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡKx6FKP4tEw
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.514Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡIpVZXF7hQf
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.514Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ7CNCsTUL0J
She frowned. Was it some jazz week promotion? A record label paying the station to loop the same song?
— No. This was lazy.514Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ4hL0P2l3WH
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.514Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡEFmSHyHc6M
Same as always.
She glanced out the window. The sky looked about right for the season—late dawn, pale at the edges.514Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡAZm9udFbDW
Nothing too weird. Not yet.
She stepped into the kitchen and pulled out the dough.514Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡfgrbpLxsKe
But stopped.
— That’s not right.
She remembered preparing chocolate dough last night. She wanted to make something sweet for Easter.514Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡEdDL9q1mc3
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?514Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡahoHAnQryz
Claire shrugged it off and started baking anyway.514Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡFsAUduROVV
— People get tired. Thoughts blur. Maybe she never made the chocolate batch at all.514Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡqFgJRNXjcG
No point snapping at herself. Bagels don’t care.
The paper arrived.
She picked it up. Froze.
— That photo. That angle.514Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡp9LncgTLZK
That...ass.
She’d seen that picture.514Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡLsvaWfq3Q6
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:514Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡaFwym1Ri5z
“Do photographers even remember to shoot faces?”
It floated up again, uninvited.
She flipped the paper to check the date.514Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡqf20ln9Nj3
April 21st.
She looked toward the door, maybe to call after the delivery guy, but no one was there.514Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ2uPEL9SmJC
Too late.
Still frowning, she set the paper on the counter and walked back toward the register.
The bell jingled. First customer.514Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡhMiB7WUJ38
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.514Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡvSOoNNgUwe
Maybe it was just a fluke.
She cleared her throat.514Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡbSpUx0bOlZ
“Kyle…what’s today’s date?”
Kyle blinked, then gave a little laugh. “April 21st, Claire. Easter Sunday.514Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡZtJ4av0ve3
And hey—Happy Easter!”
Claire’s eyes widened.
— April 21st.514Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡomVwpYLv45
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.514Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡM9o6fwaBSl
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.514Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡd0EgNPCK26
But she couldn’t hear him anymore.
Her mind had narrowed into one small, steady sentence:
— What the hell is going on?
514Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡqaxqBXn7h1
and then Add to home screen.