Chapter OneHallie From The Park
Day 371 I.L.
Amie was stepping out of her comfort zone.
Maybe “step” was too big a word. She was shuffling out of her comfort zone. Sticking a toe in. Leaning slightly over the line.
She was sitting at a bus stop across the street from Willows Park, a folded newspaper resting in her lap. The newspaper had been purchased on the walk over—Amie had thought it could prove useful in her stakeout, to help avoid drawing attention to herself. Upon arrival, she decided that a twenty-eight-year-old reading a newspaper at a bus stop was far more suspicious than a twenty-eight-year-old looking at her phone at a bus stop. She’d abandoned the newspaper in favor of the phone.
Time check: 4:47PM. Any second …
Amie spotted Hallie From The Park cresting a hill, power walking toward a grassy spot underneath a copse of sugar maple trees. Hallie had a plastic takeout bag hanging from one arm and a panicked look on her face as she stopped and stared intently at the grass below her.
Starting a timer on her phone, Amie sat back and tried to ignore the sour feeling in her stomach.
On her twelfth day in the time loop, Amie had begun subconsciously accepting her recurring fate. Breaking from her regular routine, she’d wandered aimlessly around town, feeling hopeless. Late in the afternoon she’d stumbled upon Hallie, who was frantically searching for a ring she’d lost during sunrise yoga that morning.
“It was a gift from my boyfriend,” Hallie would always say as they combed through the grass together. “Not an engagement ring. He’s such a commitment-phobe—I gave him a key to my place and keep dropping hints that he should give me a key to his. But so far he hasnottaken the hint. I left work early to surprise him with Vietnamese food. Do you like Vietnamese food? It’s our favorite. I think—”
This was the point when, during that first meeting, Amie discovered the ring.
Amie returned to her routines, adding Hallie From The Park to them. She was well aware that even if Hallie couldn’t find the ring on her own, the time loop made the lasting impact of that loss significantly less impactful. But Amie couldn’t help but feel bad leaving the woman to search on her own, whether or not the results of that search were undone by the next sunrise yoga.
That uncomfortable feeling was now roiling inside of Amie as she pretended not to see Hallie scouring the grass for her jewelry. She glanced down at the timer on her phone, which had just passed the three-minute mark.
She’d visited David earlier that day. After telling him about the time loop and giving him Genevieve’s regards to cement his belief in her story, she’d mentioned how she’d had a particularly bad time about a week prior. It had been the one-year anniversary of the time loop (or what she assumed was the one-year anniversary—she’d lost track once or twice, causing her to doubt if she had the exact number correct). She’d spent most of the day in bed,blasting sad music, ruminating on her situation, and soaking in hopelessness.
By the next day, she’d bounced back, but the experience had left both her and David wondering how the day had gone without her interference. A sort of “Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come” curiosity. This interest was what brought her to the bus stop bench, which she was very close to abandoning as the timer hit the twenty-minute mark.
“You’ve passed it twice now,” she muttered under her breath, watching Hallie circle the spot where her ring sat hidden in a patch of clover. “It’sright there.” She’d fully given up on subtlety and was outright staring, as if she could telepathically guide the target of her gaze to where she needed to go.
Finally, just before the time hit twenty-four minutes, Hallie let out a delighted cry as she picked up her ring.
Amie tapped the timer to stop it, sighing with relief. It wasn’t agreatresult. She’d been hoping that Hallie would have been able to find the ring easily enough without Amie’s help. But the woman had managed to find it on her own, even if it took a bit of time, and that was enough to put Amie’s mind at ease. Maybe she could occasionally skip visiting the park with a clear conscience.
After stopping for a celebratory smoothie, Amie headed back home. Noting the movers as she arrived at her building, she slipped through the entrance and made her way to the emergency stairwell to avoid getting caught behind an ascending couch. She wondered if she’d ever get the chance to meet her new neighbors. By this point, she wasveryfamiliar with their taste in furniture (boho chic), as well as with the people moving it (well-muscled but painfully slow-moving).
The sound of a vacuum cleaner made her pause as she walked down the hall to her apartment. Amie backtracked, putting an ear to David’s door. She checked the time on her phone, an uncomfortable sensation crawling under her skin.
Knock knock. Knock. Knock knock knock.
The vacuuming continued.
KNOCK KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK.
The vacuuming stopped. The door swung open.
“I’m vacuuming,” David said, the aforementioned machine in his hand.
“You’re napping,” Amie replied, perplexed.
David stared at her, looked to the vacuum, then back at her. “… No?”
“You’re supposed to be napping right now,” Amie said, squeezing past him. “You’re always napping at this time. Why aren’t you napping right now?”
“I was, but I was woken up almost immediately. Once I’m up, I’m up. So I decided to clean.” David shut the door behind her. “Is this a time loop thing?”
“I don’t know.” Amie sat on the couch, resting her near-empty smoothie cup on a coaster. “This has never happened before.”
