In a dim apartment tucked inside Blüdhaven’s quieter streets, the alarm clock rang right on schedule.23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡwZB6p0XXp6
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.23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡvMN5fr5VrU
— 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.23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡMfVdFHCZix
— 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.23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡtz0NwHT2YT
— The sky felt like her: still hitting snooze, refusing to fully rise.23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡHV1J4AppJS
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.23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡTXNtpqaGSo
It used to be a secondhand store, left behind by her late aunt. Claire had turned it into something warm, something caffeinated.23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡLyhkRPp4Ia
— 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.23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡLWb90fbSIc
Which meant she could afford to stay open until 7 p.m., unlike most shops that shut down by three.23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡvmfz5FhdJv
— Cops might be sarcastic as hell, but at least they order fast.23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡzD8ztAbHiU
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.23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡGgCp1kpSBj
She shoved most of it upstairs into the second-floor room.23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ4u6JGYWAXe
— 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.23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡZG8onB3n0V
— 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.23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡQYnuWjDEVr
The work rush would start soon.23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡJewVZuSONR
— Dough was gentle. Predictable. You give it time, temperature, attention—it behaves.23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡUh5AOKEuTV
People, not so much.
Claire felt oddly good that morning. Like maybe there’d be a steady stream of customers.23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡPAwASbBHCI
— 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.23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ4R2YcBBUul
She picked it up, glanced at the cover.
Nightwing.23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ6ABHDnmTsL
Leaping mid-air, grinning like he knew the whole city was watching.23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡBzTY0Uplwl
Baton in hand. Camera focused squarely on his backside.
Claire…
— Rolled her eyes.23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ5Dpv8FG41O
Did photographers forget faces existed? Or were asses genuinely more marketable now?
She tossed the paper onto the counter for whoever wanted it.23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡsVe2qJt83m
— 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.23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡEFWVrhDq1l
— 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.23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡUtblgejGUa
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.23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ9czmUIvzx6
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.23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡhDwHNbYi2v
She frowned. Was it some jazz week promotion? A record label paying the station to loop the same song?
— No. This was lazy.23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡecbprw4CDu
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.23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡs4I5RPZXI5
Same as always.
She glanced out the window. The sky looked about right for the season—late dawn, pale at the edges.23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡXT52iga4Oz
Nothing too weird. Not yet.
She stepped into the kitchen and pulled out the dough.23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡggf8fw7ZOl
But stopped.
— That’s not right.
She remembered preparing chocolate dough last night. She wanted to make something sweet for Easter.23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡQzeAQ8RPQB
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?23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡNPrkwclU1u
Claire shrugged it off and started baking anyway.23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡFXjyHtQCIE
— People get tired. Thoughts blur. Maybe she never made the chocolate batch at all.23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡFZgSay4VwL
No point snapping at herself. Bagels don’t care.
The paper arrived.
She picked it up. Froze.
— That photo. That angle.23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡdGmZftaZyi
That...ass.
She’d seen that picture.23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡf3wsIzaWJo
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:23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ0KxZJAUAXI
“Do photographers even remember to shoot faces?”
It floated up again, uninvited.
She flipped the paper to check the date.23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡaSEfgT2frc
April 21st.
She looked toward the door, maybe to call after the delivery guy, but no one was there.23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡVgkU8mWfYR
Too late.
Still frowning, she set the paper on the counter and walked back toward the register.
The bell jingled. First customer.23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡnAZ5iKc37w
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.23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ8oD0o384X4
Maybe it was just a fluke.
She cleared her throat.23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡuZwGUvDNiK
“Kyle…what’s today’s date?”
Kyle blinked, then gave a little laugh. “April 21st, Claire. Easter Sunday.23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡKa6Y7ttzsR
And hey—Happy Easter!”
Claire’s eyes widened.
— April 21st.23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡR0rp2pdHA5
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.23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡMM5Jig6uX8
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.23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡpIkqBvCzUy
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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