Just as Claire was still scrambling for a coherent explanation, Nightwing suddenly pulled out a small notepad and pen.
Yes. A real notepad. And a real pen.
Claire had a flash of thought:116Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡkddM8Mqj5M
Where the hell was that even stored? Vein-based stationary system? Interdimensional pocket?
Nightwing’s expression was earnestly professional.116Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡya7NNbYCal
“Miss, can you tell me what’s been happening in your home?”
That tone was too sincere. It made Claire feel like she’d just become the designated town lunatic in a police report.
Still, she pushed ahead.
“Something gets stolen every night… but there’s never any sign of a break-in. So I figured… maybe it’s a ghost.”
—Not technically a lie.116Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡyZQ9KfTmEb
In her mind, what was being stolen was the future.
She said “ghost,” but she really meant time.116Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡm7UEEkdqQi
She glanced at their faces, half-hoping she still passed for “eccentric but manageable,” not “Gotham mental ward, tier three.”
Nightwing frowned. A real, honest-to-Bat frown. Then he scribbled something into his notebook.
Claire had a brief urge to ask whether it synced to the cloud. Otherwise, this whole report was getting wiped clean at the next reset.
“What exactly has gone missing?” he asked.
Claire hesitated. “My… my chocolate bagel dough.”
That came out embarrassingly quiet.116Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ9i7gm2YfaJ
She was praying it wouldn’t get her filed under “Midnight Breakdown #4972 – Female, Late 20s, Delusional Pastry Narrative.”
Yes. Her chocolate bagel dough had turned into plain dough.116Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡtQNSniUGNj
The perfect ratio. The delicate chill-proofed aroma.116Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡJDdeMuaO1r
Erased. Like someone hit CTRL+Z on her effort.
This wasn’t just bagel theft.116Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡcv2PTPvbH0
This was a heist on her will to live.
Nightwing’s brow furrowed harder. He started writing more. In bold.
Robin, meanwhile, looked like a school kid forced to sit through a lecture on the French Revolution. His face folded in confusion, perfectly symmetrical.
“Did you hear any noises at night?”116Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡtTBoNkFtGC
“No.” Claire shook her head. “I sleep on the third floor. It was quiet. That’s why I thought… ghost.”
Nightwing nodded again. Took another full page of notes.
“Anything else missing? Any broken locks or signs of tampering?”
“Nope.”
And then came a full string of follow-up questions.116Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡFhyBstZ0ml
She almost told him to stop.
It was way too procedural. She was starting to suspect Nightwing actually had a login to Gotham’s police database.
Just when Claire was about to crack from this paranormal bagel audit, both of them suddenly paused. Lifted their heads. Listened.
Then glanced at each other.
Robin bit his lip, like a kid who knew he was about to get caught.
Nightwing sighed and patted his head.116Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡcD11GEtzvz
“Batman’s here to pick you up.”
Then he turned to Claire. Still polite. Still sincere.116Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ3zZxtpzIrl
“I’m sorry for the inconvenience, ma’am. I’ll continue investigating. Hopefully, we’ll find a resolution soon.”
Claire nodded. She couldn’t not nod.116Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡOtsVyIh3Me
When a guy in a mask, with shoulders like that, speaks to you like a trauma counselor, you nod.
They walked to the window. Waved.116Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡBVgu9pZK7E
Like two city contractors who’d just finished fixing your plumbing at midnight.
Then they swung away.
Claire closed the window in a daze.116Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡRs1OGr05Zr
She felt like an NPC who’d just wrapped a side quest she didn’t know she’d started.
She climbed back into bed.116Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ8K5Nr4RiYN
Closed her eyes slowly.
A final thought floated to the surface:
So… Batman really does come to this part of town at night.116Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ0PpHTc3Zkf
To pick up his kid, no less.
116Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡXmpUUfJyFk
Claire opened her eyes.
She was back.
Same jazz music.116Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ7wG5j9U8y7
Same crease in the pillow.116Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡwjVv1Tqaii
Even the sunlight hit the bed in exactly the same slant as before.
She sat up, and a ridiculous thought crept into her head:
—Technically, she could just keep booking hotel rooms forever.116Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡy0KncRNfLg
Live the dream. Sleep for free.116Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡCSno5QoG0M
No bills. No consequences.116Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡmWMMIeYuE7
Time would reset before the credit card charge even processed.
“Calm down, Claire. You’re a law-abiding citizen,” she said to herself, with the conviction of someone who needed to believe it.
Just because the world had no tomorrow, didn’t mean you got to have no principles.
She decided to head to the café. Her morning existential spiral was basically on a schedule now, and the bagels never came out before ten anyway.
Which meant—almost certainly—that the blue-eyed cop would show up again.
And sure enough, right on the dot, ten o’clock.116Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ7K06n0QMY9
The door swung open.
Claire looked at him.116Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡXeqF5NiVjt
Those eyes.116Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡnIL5lhDw6p
Something about them felt familiar.
Had she seen them before? Or was it just that “default human template” kind of face? Was that a thing?
Before he could even speak, Claire opened a paper bag and handed over the exact number of bagels, pulling them from the tray with the ease of a choreographed routine.
The blue-eyed officer blinked. “How’d you know how many I wanted?”
Claire shrugged. “Hmm… psychic powers?”
He blinked again. Not suspicious, just processing—like someone who’d seen a lot of weird things in the city, but still needed a second.
“Don’t overthink it,” Claire said.116Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡq6lpIgsHUm
“Just a guess. Go on, now.”
But he didn’t leave right away.116Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡDPABn08nbc
He lingered for a beat, then stepped up to the counter.
“I’m Richard Grayson,” he said. “Call me Dick. If you ever need anything… I’m around.”
Claire nodded, but something inside her tensed.
It was the first time—the very first time—since the resets began that someone had told her their full name.
The first time a stranger had reached through this infinite loop and offered something—anything—that could’ve carried into tomorrow.
Even if she knew, for her, tomorrow wouldn’t come.
Dick turned and walked out, shoulders back, that easy gait of a man who belonged in black-and-white detective films.
Claire watched him go.
There was something about that silhouette, too.116Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ0z3bqKQ3Ll
Something she swore she’d seen before.
116Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡh6FWraNeEd
and then Add to home screen.