In a dim apartment tucked inside Blüdhaven’s quieter streets, the alarm clock rang right on schedule.110Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡF25lHg82E9
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.110Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡIDUtOr2H5t
— 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.110Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡvXao5PcXL4
— 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.110Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ3lLIlCji36
— The sky felt like her: still hitting snooze, refusing to fully rise.110Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ1fuwHkcTXR
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.110Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡllkB3kGu0x
It used to be a secondhand store, left behind by her late aunt. Claire had turned it into something warm, something caffeinated.110Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡP7YRaP9fRF
— 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.110Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ1WrT6aKcGz
Which meant she could afford to stay open until 7 p.m., unlike most shops that shut down by three.110Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡaP7O6LkxgG
— Cops might be sarcastic as hell, but at least they order fast.110Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡS09ZW8SZHo
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.110Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡIfGNMfi7Ns
She shoved most of it upstairs into the second-floor room.110Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡWtYlJD0NqN
— 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.110Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡDJeagUEqHn
— 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.110Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡZtOOcAst9u
The work rush would start soon.110Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡxeXjD1tvlY
— Dough was gentle. Predictable. You give it time, temperature, attention—it behaves.110Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡN2nRAG2TRG
People, not so much.
Claire felt oddly good that morning. Like maybe there’d be a steady stream of customers.110Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡQxJskpB4mx
— 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.110Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡfhGATYNQ8w
She picked it up, glanced at the cover.
Nightwing.110Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡmUG0B01f1E
Leaping mid-air, grinning like he knew the whole city was watching.110Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡNEWrBabrRE
Baton in hand. Camera focused squarely on his backside.
Claire…
— Rolled her eyes.110Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡxdO2A05yPm
Did photographers forget faces existed? Or were asses genuinely more marketable now?
She tossed the paper onto the counter for whoever wanted it.110Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡYe4JBkxMTh
— 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.110Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡVv82sYBISo
— 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.110Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡzXHJ4JAB90
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.110Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ9rIb78I965
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.110Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡovZ2mZjjD6
She frowned. Was it some jazz week promotion? A record label paying the station to loop the same song?
— No. This was lazy.110Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ5s41GWpDrX
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.110Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡhDDceJVwQk
Same as always.
She glanced out the window. The sky looked about right for the season—late dawn, pale at the edges.110Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡwWNqcwW49M
Nothing too weird. Not yet.
She stepped into the kitchen and pulled out the dough.110Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡAoEpVWDYIo
But stopped.
— That’s not right.
She remembered preparing chocolate dough last night. She wanted to make something sweet for Easter.110Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡwu8imhLWOt
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?110Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡlPE72AIWOw
Claire shrugged it off and started baking anyway.110Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡDPW0ufyZOz
— People get tired. Thoughts blur. Maybe she never made the chocolate batch at all.110Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡFimUyqTN89
No point snapping at herself. Bagels don’t care.
The paper arrived.
She picked it up. Froze.
— That photo. That angle.110Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡqUVy07BXHD
That...ass.
She’d seen that picture.110Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡIjGGRziMMv
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:110Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡy0IgaUVAzC
“Do photographers even remember to shoot faces?”
It floated up again, uninvited.
She flipped the paper to check the date.110Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ4ZXhPOy97B
April 21st.
She looked toward the door, maybe to call after the delivery guy, but no one was there.110Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡibsCPke0Rl
Too late.
Still frowning, she set the paper on the counter and walked back toward the register.
The bell jingled. First customer.110Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡmsPsWR48pr
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.110Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡebOsdYPp3I
Maybe it was just a fluke.
She cleared her throat.110Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡsRE91LAkOj
“Kyle…what’s today’s date?”
Kyle blinked, then gave a little laugh. “April 21st, Claire. Easter Sunday.110Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡXrdQgOKBmP
And hey—Happy Easter!”
Claire’s eyes widened.
— April 21st.110Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡKXFDSIZ0Fo
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.110Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡmvSvgNDIRT
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.110Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡqYD2RN7Sjx
But she couldn’t hear him anymore.
Her mind had narrowed into one small, steady sentence:
— What the hell is going on?
110Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡvT9Fa2Pwh5
and then Add to home screen.