Page 4 of Time Loops & Meet Cutes
And since it’s actually Friday, I have to go to work.
I finish my coffee and cereal, then get changed and head to the office, where I have a sense of déjà vu all day. For example, I know at four twenty that Tyler is about to come over to my desk and tell me that the proposal is ready. Even before I read it, I know exactly what mistakes he’s made. And I know what Fernando will say as he heads to the door at six o’clock, while I’m furiously typing.
“Last one here again?”
“Just want to get this proposal finished,” I say.
“Don’t stay too late. It’s Friday, after all.”
It’s like my dream is becoming reality… or was it already reality?
“What day was yesterday?” I ask Fernando. I try to sound composed, even though I’m freaking out internally.
He tilts his head and gives me an odd look. I can’t blame him.
“Thursday,” he replies.
“The nineteenth?”
“Yes, Thursday, the nineteenth. Why?”
“Oh, the date on my calendar is messed up. Just wanted to check. Thanks.”
I finish the proposal and head out just after seven. I debate whether to go to the night market, eventually deciding that I should. I’m starving, and it’s on the way home.
The market is exactly as I remember. The crowds, the person in a Pocky box costume, the young couple with their satay sticks.
Goose bumps break out on my skin, despite the warm night. This is wrong. I seem to be reliving the same day, but nobody else thinks anything’s amiss. They’re all going on with their lives as though this is perfectly normal.
But one thing is different: the dumpling booth is nowhere to be found.
“Excuse me,” I say to the man at the next booth. “Was there a woman selling dumplings here earlier?”
“There’s a dumpling stand over there.” He points to the left.
“No, no. Was there onehere? With an older woman?”
“Uh, no. I’m the last one in this row.”
“But—”
I snap my mouth shut before I sound even more ridiculous, then open it again to order some noodles. I eat them standing up and consider the situation.
It must have something to do with those sketchy dumplings. They didn’ttastesketchy, and my stomach didn’t complain afterward. But the booth had no name, and there were no other customers.
Those dumplings must have had the power to send me back in time.
Don’t be silly, Noelle. That’s impossible.
I try to calm myself down by perusing the other offerings at the market. The pandesal was good, though, so I return to that booth and buy two. I sit down at the same bench as before, near the man and his son, and bite into my food. It’s just as delicious as it was the first time. Once I’ve finished, I consider eating the other one. After all, there’s no guarantee I’ll actually get to eat it if I bring it home. Because what if this happens again, and when I wake up tomorrow, all evidence of today has been removed?
At the thought of having to fix the proposal yet again, I feel exhausted to the bone. What the hell is happening? I don’t wantto live this day again. I don’t want to stay late at the office again. I justcan’t.
My hand clenches around a paper napkin. Around me, people are laughing, smiling, enjoying some food on a warm summer’s night. I feel removed from it all, sitting here alone and freaking out. It’s ironic, perhaps, that repeating the day is disrupting my routine, but there it is.
A tear leaks out of my eye, and I wipe it away.
“Hey.”
