In a dim apartment tucked inside Blüdhaven’s quieter streets, the alarm clock rang right on schedule.18Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡDSd6xgK1iw
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.18Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡfA1uSXSZI2
— 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.18Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡeavjdgtBGt
— 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.18Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡiW6t1irqjl
— The sky felt like her: still hitting snooze, refusing to fully rise.18Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡejLY3larbl
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.18Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡl2gIaDG4f6
It used to be a secondhand store, left behind by her late aunt. Claire had turned it into something warm, something caffeinated.18Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡGK40yz9XxW
— 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.18Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ5KO3gEsWXG
Which meant she could afford to stay open until 7 p.m., unlike most shops that shut down by three.18Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡZxCMF0A75y
— Cops might be sarcastic as hell, but at least they order fast.18Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡkrLKBMpXiJ
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.18Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡty6OCkatdD
She shoved most of it upstairs into the second-floor room.18Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡJt6LmR0V4G
— 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.18Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡiX2V366DoS
— 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.18Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡg7HOOhx7E3
The work rush would start soon.18Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡIsJQoQOKWm
— Dough was gentle. Predictable. You give it time, temperature, attention—it behaves.18Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡRohhNwqORS
People, not so much.
Claire felt oddly good that morning. Like maybe there’d be a steady stream of customers.18Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡk69pJArj9a
— 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.18Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡKjflCg1ZMm
She picked it up, glanced at the cover.
Nightwing.18Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ5JvHTqPoMq
Leaping mid-air, grinning like he knew the whole city was watching.18Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡuShcNmjVaq
Baton in hand. Camera focused squarely on his backside.
Claire…
— Rolled her eyes.18Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡmsBljfTaur
Did photographers forget faces existed? Or were asses genuinely more marketable now?
She tossed the paper onto the counter for whoever wanted it.18Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡneC2pBg4Qo
— 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.18Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡmfb31XcXOc
— 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.18Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ73kl21bCWA
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.18Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡY03clISNEg
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.18Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡUKRofnSkfG
She frowned. Was it some jazz week promotion? A record label paying the station to loop the same song?
— No. This was lazy.18Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡofIZC1BZSQ
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.18Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡgdteoh9SLy
Same as always.
She glanced out the window. The sky looked about right for the season—late dawn, pale at the edges.18Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡn69ILMpHu1
Nothing too weird. Not yet.
She stepped into the kitchen and pulled out the dough.18Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡUCL5pStC6Z
But stopped.
— That’s not right.
She remembered preparing chocolate dough last night. She wanted to make something sweet for Easter.18Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡdmFM0Ag84a
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?18Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡGFrObEV8S9
Claire shrugged it off and started baking anyway.18Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡmtQcgcEDVN
— People get tired. Thoughts blur. Maybe she never made the chocolate batch at all.18Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡa9fi9E84WC
No point snapping at herself. Bagels don’t care.
The paper arrived.
She picked it up. Froze.
— That photo. That angle.18Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ0JfmOnhuiX
That...ass.
She’d seen that picture.18Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡZ9N0P7Zc5F
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:18Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ2h6beAanpM
“Do photographers even remember to shoot faces?”
It floated up again, uninvited.
She flipped the paper to check the date.18Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ4Stnyrjjqc
April 21st.
She looked toward the door, maybe to call after the delivery guy, but no one was there.18Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡe2hT4P0ChV
Too late.
Still frowning, she set the paper on the counter and walked back toward the register.
The bell jingled. First customer.18Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡCiMSRRjNQ7
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.18Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡlZ7f4H534h
Maybe it was just a fluke.
She cleared her throat.18Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡjFyl4CATL9
“Kyle…what’s today’s date?”
Kyle blinked, then gave a little laugh. “April 21st, Claire. Easter Sunday.18Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡZ2ffvdgonO
And hey—Happy Easter!”
Claire’s eyes widened.
— April 21st.18Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡudBW3zvwVD
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.18Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡfLPm4NEDov
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.18Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡMvyeOFB4Iy
But she couldn’t hear him anymore.
Her mind had narrowed into one small, steady sentence:
— What the hell is going on?
18Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡl8VKG6nsY8
