In a dim apartment tucked inside Blüdhaven’s quieter streets, the alarm clock rang right on schedule.41Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡUo4M2jrJOl
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.41Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ5XsE5Edn8n
— 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.41Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡghuAwDXC4f
— 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.41Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡmKvkkhSuoh
— The sky felt like her: still hitting snooze, refusing to fully rise.41Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡiqKEBxrnqD
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.41Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡT2AhIKu5IW
It used to be a secondhand store, left behind by her late aunt. Claire had turned it into something warm, something caffeinated.41Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡlHD8lJaUgt
— 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.41Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡDUxGJC4K4n
Which meant she could afford to stay open until 7 p.m., unlike most shops that shut down by three.41Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡbZkYzHDDOD
— Cops might be sarcastic as hell, but at least they order fast.41Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡOBxRAZ8sSq
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.41Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡlIzwvw0HeI
She shoved most of it upstairs into the second-floor room.41Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ3bStkWPOnm
— 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.41Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡPSOjc9sykm
— 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.41Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡuCeQHdHp50
The work rush would start soon.41Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡC4biRVBbQH
— Dough was gentle. Predictable. You give it time, temperature, attention—it behaves.41Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡKKdlV9VWLM
People, not so much.
Claire felt oddly good that morning. Like maybe there’d be a steady stream of customers.41Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡG9rfP2WmbR
— 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.41Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ9L8QFcuehU
She picked it up, glanced at the cover.
Nightwing.41Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡRmy4kdi3zh
Leaping mid-air, grinning like he knew the whole city was watching.41Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡPwhoEwKyNf
Baton in hand. Camera focused squarely on his backside.
Claire…
— Rolled her eyes.41Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡEVjz9Ov2FR
Did photographers forget faces existed? Or were asses genuinely more marketable now?
She tossed the paper onto the counter for whoever wanted it.41Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ5x3nRdbLFh
— 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.41Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡDVewelOGpF
— 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.41Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡRhBwRIdgR5
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.41Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ4ZAl6fJUYG
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.41Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡLZa22mTy9J
She frowned. Was it some jazz week promotion? A record label paying the station to loop the same song?
— No. This was lazy.41Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡg9eLbmbPNG
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.41Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡhdAbEzMIR9
Same as always.
She glanced out the window. The sky looked about right for the season—late dawn, pale at the edges.41Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡxWDOsDgrjk
Nothing too weird. Not yet.
She stepped into the kitchen and pulled out the dough.41Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡYJNtvBFg9q
But stopped.
— That’s not right.
She remembered preparing chocolate dough last night. She wanted to make something sweet for Easter.41Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ8jbY7npZNg
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?41Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡIYddQajLVM
Claire shrugged it off and started baking anyway.41Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡLYBk68EmDV
— People get tired. Thoughts blur. Maybe she never made the chocolate batch at all.41Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡJFYygSo5sn
No point snapping at herself. Bagels don’t care.
The paper arrived.
She picked it up. Froze.
— That photo. That angle.41Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡdkR7aZMgtL
That...ass.
She’d seen that picture.41Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡsuyDRsTX0C
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:41Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡkBJdsxpO0y
“Do photographers even remember to shoot faces?”
It floated up again, uninvited.
She flipped the paper to check the date.41Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡBUlrMU3eaG
April 21st.
She looked toward the door, maybe to call after the delivery guy, but no one was there.41Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ0GjfxJ8sLU
Too late.
Still frowning, she set the paper on the counter and walked back toward the register.
The bell jingled. First customer.41Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡyDtQOlO9Xj
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.41Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ8qp28ZjfKW
Maybe it was just a fluke.
She cleared her throat.41Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡrhFuxiYwXE
“Kyle…what’s today’s date?”
Kyle blinked, then gave a little laugh. “April 21st, Claire. Easter Sunday.41Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡFVfBYEfzUY
And hey—Happy Easter!”
Claire’s eyes widened.
— April 21st.41Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ1CkfK1ErCb
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.41Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡYxMyPxekCK
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.41Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡey5UIBP4Cy
But she couldn’t hear him anymore.
Her mind had narrowed into one small, steady sentence:
— What the hell is going on?
41Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ7xl3M8DwzU
and then Add to home screen.