In a dim apartment tucked inside Blüdhaven’s quieter streets, the alarm clock rang right on schedule.296Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡh0NmFdSNy2
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.296Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ5nzGK07rby
— 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.296Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡGooW1M0w5m
— 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.296Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡmvLnOiI7NX
— The sky felt like her: still hitting snooze, refusing to fully rise.296Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡqbulCPACn1
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.296Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡAaCjxOkUoQ
It used to be a secondhand store, left behind by her late aunt. Claire had turned it into something warm, something caffeinated.296Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡb5Sf3IOBw2
— 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.296Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡjvmM1OgFgg
Which meant she could afford to stay open until 7 p.m., unlike most shops that shut down by three.296Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡs5oYsQN2he
— Cops might be sarcastic as hell, but at least they order fast.296Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡxvEJ9DdjJy
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.296Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡyDCdCTvsGw
She shoved most of it upstairs into the second-floor room.296Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡPDqjKrHors
— 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.296Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡwAzuhVNhz4
— 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.296Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ9wMwifHosC
The work rush would start soon.296Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡvK2Y9hQLay
— Dough was gentle. Predictable. You give it time, temperature, attention—it behaves.296Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡm0OnRIeOBk
People, not so much.
Claire felt oddly good that morning. Like maybe there’d be a steady stream of customers.296Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ3VAcIHEJXN
— 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.296Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡH358hzDpnd
She picked it up, glanced at the cover.
Nightwing.296Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡgV37KoQp6B
Leaping mid-air, grinning like he knew the whole city was watching.296Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡEo7r4nnRov
Baton in hand. Camera focused squarely on his backside.
Claire…
— Rolled her eyes.296Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡcvW4GyJEed
Did photographers forget faces existed? Or were asses genuinely more marketable now?
She tossed the paper onto the counter for whoever wanted it.296Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡaMYNDEkdxG
— 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.296Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡZbHrw4yHUx
— 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.296Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡNZ2tO0p3NW
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.296Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡVdhxQOY8np
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.296Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡWoRaBQ2ooM
She frowned. Was it some jazz week promotion? A record label paying the station to loop the same song?
— No. This was lazy.296Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡxBy3W1wWFp
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.296Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡEwDNS7GWYH
Same as always.
She glanced out the window. The sky looked about right for the season—late dawn, pale at the edges.296Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡMEJRkkUBMI
Nothing too weird. Not yet.
She stepped into the kitchen and pulled out the dough.296Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡMBLYCSnC24
But stopped.
— That’s not right.
She remembered preparing chocolate dough last night. She wanted to make something sweet for Easter.296Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡVdzhrlO2PG
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?296Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡtl66t06FYz
Claire shrugged it off and started baking anyway.296Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡVITWUcN25D
— People get tired. Thoughts blur. Maybe she never made the chocolate batch at all.296Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ4PLbOfLLK4
No point snapping at herself. Bagels don’t care.
The paper arrived.
She picked it up. Froze.
— That photo. That angle.296Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡygQD1cTT8a
That...ass.
She’d seen that picture.296Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡeUl04R1K0Z
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:296Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡOSXtKmJx1i
“Do photographers even remember to shoot faces?”
It floated up again, uninvited.
She flipped the paper to check the date.296Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡDHMf7kzprQ
April 21st.
She looked toward the door, maybe to call after the delivery guy, but no one was there.296Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡfnL9TgEyno
Too late.
Still frowning, she set the paper on the counter and walked back toward the register.
The bell jingled. First customer.296Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡiinj4N3YkP
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.296Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡnK7poblY74
Maybe it was just a fluke.
She cleared her throat.296Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡlFjOzDztCd
“Kyle…what’s today’s date?”
Kyle blinked, then gave a little laugh. “April 21st, Claire. Easter Sunday.296Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡRFbOdOhdpe
And hey—Happy Easter!”
Claire’s eyes widened.
— April 21st.296Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡLqQPRbUJnb
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.296Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡxoe2PH3skQ
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.296Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡXZKydn7n71
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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and then Add to home screen.