In a dim apartment tucked inside Blüdhaven’s quieter streets, the alarm clock rang right on schedule.49Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡXLGye4wCxl
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.49Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ81IOpbKjXY
— 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.49Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡny1GcVvUs4
— 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.49Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡIjiPZkszVz
— The sky felt like her: still hitting snooze, refusing to fully rise.49Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡSihpQ0rPp7
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.49Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ9Ms8SCH4TJ
It used to be a secondhand store, left behind by her late aunt. Claire had turned it into something warm, something caffeinated.49Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡjODthQnW5a
— 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.49Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡQZc9JCVpDA
Which meant she could afford to stay open until 7 p.m., unlike most shops that shut down by three.49Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡPnugvbbI5A
— Cops might be sarcastic as hell, but at least they order fast.49Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡZfdyIKjmDd
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.49Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡm5C7A1iAvB
She shoved most of it upstairs into the second-floor room.49Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡsA6z2odbL9
— 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.49Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡmnoR0oYNON
— 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.49Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡEL3ntdMxjS
The work rush would start soon.49Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡdmUOUv4cRZ
— Dough was gentle. Predictable. You give it time, temperature, attention—it behaves.49Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡpxbxa1rbON
People, not so much.
Claire felt oddly good that morning. Like maybe there’d be a steady stream of customers.49Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡFmvPl1rdSd
— 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.49Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡqbQk7RVrJ6
She picked it up, glanced at the cover.
Nightwing.49Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡLG4Y6d9QN3
Leaping mid-air, grinning like he knew the whole city was watching.49Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡiSqOMMIhec
Baton in hand. Camera focused squarely on his backside.
Claire…
— Rolled her eyes.49Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡmsK3ELSEyq
Did photographers forget faces existed? Or were asses genuinely more marketable now?
She tossed the paper onto the counter for whoever wanted it.49Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡi2j5nC2qQa
— 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.49Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡr2kX67WRVU
— 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.49Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡEryevUXFir
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.49Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡv3yql4wrEj
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.49Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡruMxW2i7xU
She frowned. Was it some jazz week promotion? A record label paying the station to loop the same song?
— No. This was lazy.49Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡRkerqPHOGN
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.49Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡP9i2UF9JXW
Same as always.
She glanced out the window. The sky looked about right for the season—late dawn, pale at the edges.49Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡHhaIZyKGWI
Nothing too weird. Not yet.
She stepped into the kitchen and pulled out the dough.49Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡjvsatfmSWd
But stopped.
— That’s not right.
She remembered preparing chocolate dough last night. She wanted to make something sweet for Easter.49Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡxmA6OSC5cN
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?49Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡMBLsCIGjyb
Claire shrugged it off and started baking anyway.49Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡNsePIm889K
— People get tired. Thoughts blur. Maybe she never made the chocolate batch at all.49Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡpy9pTO7Ga9
No point snapping at herself. Bagels don’t care.
The paper arrived.
She picked it up. Froze.
— That photo. That angle.49Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ1sPjaS7fAY
That...ass.
She’d seen that picture.49Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ6KfB5rL5rR
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:49Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡjSznn29lMg
“Do photographers even remember to shoot faces?”
It floated up again, uninvited.
She flipped the paper to check the date.49Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡXHwQ1tqq8Q
April 21st.
She looked toward the door, maybe to call after the delivery guy, but no one was there.49Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡHnR1KssOLY
Too late.
Still frowning, she set the paper on the counter and walked back toward the register.
The bell jingled. First customer.49Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡRhBTI0ShPn
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.49Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡwe6RiPF45X
Maybe it was just a fluke.
She cleared her throat.49Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡH5TvGN5jLr
“Kyle…what’s today’s date?”
Kyle blinked, then gave a little laugh. “April 21st, Claire. Easter Sunday.49Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ3qFlT7srEe
And hey—Happy Easter!”
Claire’s eyes widened.
— April 21st.49Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ82JGmfCp5P
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.49Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡYYZE0puOpa
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.49Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡtiM7R4p7I2
But she couldn’t hear him anymore.
Her mind had narrowed into one small, steady sentence:
— What the hell is going on?
49Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡDZysZvkGqw
and then Add to home screen.