In a dim apartment tucked inside Blüdhaven’s quieter streets, the alarm clock rang right on schedule.108Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡTk2WjC4zHT
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.108Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ96jWWGlIgK
— 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.108Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡnJJIAJyHmq
— 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.108Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡF4yE67pxIO
— The sky felt like her: still hitting snooze, refusing to fully rise.108Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡmHWFahO2Oy
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.108Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ2VIol5HN2z
It used to be a secondhand store, left behind by her late aunt. Claire had turned it into something warm, something caffeinated.108Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡDhJO9xmF2G
— 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.108Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡSI4w5jg9Ig
Which meant she could afford to stay open until 7 p.m., unlike most shops that shut down by three.108Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡnEqAbp0hz9
— Cops might be sarcastic as hell, but at least they order fast.108Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡPC1BvTlv7l
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.108Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡsFGYqeasQi
She shoved most of it upstairs into the second-floor room.108Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ9v98gV7sK8
— 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.108Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡIAC23WUp0D
— 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.108Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡBOhzaTlfyB
The work rush would start soon.108Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡtnyPcviST2
— Dough was gentle. Predictable. You give it time, temperature, attention—it behaves.108Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡXPXU5Lxeve
People, not so much.
Claire felt oddly good that morning. Like maybe there’d be a steady stream of customers.108Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ78VneQDCQG
— 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.108Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡJnjl7GtY3v
She picked it up, glanced at the cover.
Nightwing.108Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ36MMO7ZA6m
Leaping mid-air, grinning like he knew the whole city was watching.108Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ7Mks73JrKd
Baton in hand. Camera focused squarely on his backside.
Claire…
— Rolled her eyes.108Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡtTwfUe87ZV
Did photographers forget faces existed? Or were asses genuinely more marketable now?
She tossed the paper onto the counter for whoever wanted it.108Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡrB1LfshBCb
— 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.108Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡhw7vcqzHys
— 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.108Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡGUF0r07y7y
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.108Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡXsNHujYb1I
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.108Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡkhyqqef7Zg
She frowned. Was it some jazz week promotion? A record label paying the station to loop the same song?
— No. This was lazy.108Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡGCOWsPiVA6
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.108Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ5ZCJTbQAL9
Same as always.
She glanced out the window. The sky looked about right for the season—late dawn, pale at the edges.108Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡjy1xe6iJBS
Nothing too weird. Not yet.
She stepped into the kitchen and pulled out the dough.108Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ6H1j1U4FKU
But stopped.
— That’s not right.
She remembered preparing chocolate dough last night. She wanted to make something sweet for Easter.108Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡahgZvc2UNa
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?108Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ01FdHReYJd
Claire shrugged it off and started baking anyway.108Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡVymXUE5EiP
— People get tired. Thoughts blur. Maybe she never made the chocolate batch at all.108Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡLNJkEhktxw
No point snapping at herself. Bagels don’t care.
The paper arrived.
She picked it up. Froze.
— That photo. That angle.108Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡmwuXh07V0n
That...ass.
She’d seen that picture.108Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡn0v9S0Mpl8
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:108Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡArrCAQEyWv
“Do photographers even remember to shoot faces?”
It floated up again, uninvited.
She flipped the paper to check the date.108Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡZi4Y9rcJmY
April 21st.
She looked toward the door, maybe to call after the delivery guy, but no one was there.108Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ8ZalkoOwbF
Too late.
Still frowning, she set the paper on the counter and walked back toward the register.
The bell jingled. First customer.108Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡbqvjSNvqFe
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.108Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡgPYYxPOsGv
Maybe it was just a fluke.
She cleared her throat.108Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡCTiBa0mUUr
“Kyle…what’s today’s date?”
Kyle blinked, then gave a little laugh. “April 21st, Claire. Easter Sunday.108Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡLG0l6lufZB
And hey—Happy Easter!”
Claire’s eyes widened.
— April 21st.108Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡxMuSLelO2p
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.108Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡdCL6KUO9aJ
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.108Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡaqAQJiJ050
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.