In a dim apartment tucked inside Blüdhaven’s quieter streets, the alarm clock rang right on schedule.19Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ0Dww5V20lt
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.19Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡjinV2v9gTp
— 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.19Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡN4I7Dryxs1
— 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.19Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ3DCaTfWdGG
— The sky felt like her: still hitting snooze, refusing to fully rise.19Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ4Dit9B78W6
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.19Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡUYavqSKI84
It used to be a secondhand store, left behind by her late aunt. Claire had turned it into something warm, something caffeinated.19Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡRq3MqxFLjy
— 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.19Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡtu6Cfh2gma
Which meant she could afford to stay open until 7 p.m., unlike most shops that shut down by three.19Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡCQfiYnOL0G
— Cops might be sarcastic as hell, but at least they order fast.19Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡeH4FModU1u
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.19Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡG5Dd619mUI
She shoved most of it upstairs into the second-floor room.19Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡskzeq8BgHw
— 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.19Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡdk9S8FSxZ5
— 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.19Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡAtmqWe9s0B
The work rush would start soon.19Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡdIxdY9OUKZ
— Dough was gentle. Predictable. You give it time, temperature, attention—it behaves.19Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡcFhv8laGO1
People, not so much.
Claire felt oddly good that morning. Like maybe there’d be a steady stream of customers.19Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ2Iwgh49JTV
— 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.19Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡKyf7hcIWS1
She picked it up, glanced at the cover.
Nightwing.19Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡS53MVMm2Ko
Leaping mid-air, grinning like he knew the whole city was watching.19Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡisv5PRnNCY
Baton in hand. Camera focused squarely on his backside.
Claire…
— Rolled her eyes.19Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡNPouzGp24Z
Did photographers forget faces existed? Or were asses genuinely more marketable now?
She tossed the paper onto the counter for whoever wanted it.19Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡPsKVgM32lH
— 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.19Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡU6Ur0w8yp9
— 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.19Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡi2tvHmr4du
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.19Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡRA5ivAkK1B
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.19Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡy7xS9cTnjA
She frowned. Was it some jazz week promotion? A record label paying the station to loop the same song?
— No. This was lazy.19Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡti3q71wNUN
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.19Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡLbJmO7vNAJ
Same as always.
She glanced out the window. The sky looked about right for the season—late dawn, pale at the edges.19Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡOPst6xfZ4t
Nothing too weird. Not yet.
She stepped into the kitchen and pulled out the dough.19Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡbuxhJnuuYB
But stopped.
— That’s not right.
She remembered preparing chocolate dough last night. She wanted to make something sweet for Easter.19Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡa4HxE8LXJB
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?19Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ8gvIi2Hg6G
Claire shrugged it off and started baking anyway.19Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡuq56puCTLC
— People get tired. Thoughts blur. Maybe she never made the chocolate batch at all.19Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ2DhD9QjrWm
No point snapping at herself. Bagels don’t care.
The paper arrived.
She picked it up. Froze.
— That photo. That angle.19Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡb9VrD2Nq6N
That...ass.
She’d seen that picture.19Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡPQ0srmAW55
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:19Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡXst2IrUeo2
“Do photographers even remember to shoot faces?”
It floated up again, uninvited.
She flipped the paper to check the date.19Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ5TPaRyeF8h
April 21st.
She looked toward the door, maybe to call after the delivery guy, but no one was there.19Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ8OFfOcNStR
Too late.
Still frowning, she set the paper on the counter and walked back toward the register.
The bell jingled. First customer.19Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ7PsvTZa8FO
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.19Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡNEqqyJTqqL
Maybe it was just a fluke.
She cleared her throat.19Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡtSuSKyD0Op
“Kyle…what’s today’s date?”
Kyle blinked, then gave a little laugh. “April 21st, Claire. Easter Sunday.19Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡhjvdTV62rs
And hey—Happy Easter!”
Claire’s eyes widened.
— April 21st.19Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡKmEzqy20Kx
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.19Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡrVlpwY4e3a
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.19Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡuSIQtROn9B
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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