My alarm clock went off like it had something personal against me. I shut it up with a lazy slap and sat on the edge of my bed, staring at the floor.
Same room. Same weak sunlight bleeding through the window. Same day… or so I thought.
I didn't waste time thinking. I showered, got dressed, brushed my teeth, grabbed my backpack, and stuffed it with whatever I thought made sense for a beach day—towel, water, an old phone charger, and a sandwich I probably wouldn't eat. I didn't overthink it. I never did.
The beach trip wasn't a big deal. It was just something to do—a one-day escape from the heat of the city. A public ride packed with people heading to the coast. For most of them, this was fun. For me, it was just motion.
When I stepped outside, Virgil was already leaning against a streetlight, checking his phone like it owed him money.
He looked up and grinned. "Ready for the trip?"
"Absolutely," I said.
We started walking. The streets were quieter than usual, like the whole city was holding its breath before something happened. Not that I noticed it at the time. Not really.
The bus stop was already crowded—teens talking way too loud, kids yelling over snacks, and a group of older women laughing about something none of us could hear. Everyone had that eager energy like they were already tasting the ocean.
Virgil scanned the group like a hawk. He always did that. Looking for someone interesting to talk to, or impress, or—let's be honest—just stare at.
Then he nudged me.
"Look at that," he said, nodding toward a girl standing by the curb.
She had long black hair that shimmered a little under the sun. Her clothes were simple—a white t-shirt and dark jeans—but the way she stood out made it feel like she didn't belong to the chaos around her. She laughed at something someone said, and for a second, it was like time slowed down around her.
"Doesn't she look beautiful?" Virgil asked, almost dreamy.
I glanced at her, then back at him. "She's a seven out of ten."
Virgil gave me a look like I'd insulted the concept of love itself. "You're delusional."
"And you're hopeless."
"Hopeless?" he said, mock-offended. "For recognizing beauty?"
"No. Hopeless for thinking you've got a chance."
He shook his head. "You've got no soul, man. You ever gonna like anyone?"
"Who said I wanted to?"
Virgil groaned. "See? That right there is why you'll die alone."
I gave him a flat look. "Maybe I like peace."
We laughed, and the line started moving. We climbed onto the bus—dusty seats, worn aisle, weak air conditioning. Classic. We took seats near the middle, Virgil by the window, already pulling out his phone to vanish into whatever rabbit hole he found interesting.
Five Hours Later
The bus rolled through long stretches of road, hills passing like waves. People slept, snacked, or stared blankly at the landscape. I leaned against the seat, watching dust bounce on the window.
It was too quiet.
I tapped Virgil's shoulder. "What time is it?"
He looked at his phone. "11:58 a.m."
That exact second, I felt it. Something heavy in my chest.
Then I heard it.
A distant roar. Tires screaming.
I turned my head toward the front, heart skipping. A truck—huge, fast, out of control—veered across the opposite lane, coming straight toward us.
Too fast.
Too late.
I opened my mouth, but the words didn't come.
And then—
Impact.
Screams. Glass bursting. Metal twisting. My body flung forward, weightless. A flash of red. A crack. Then darkness.
Black.
"Doesn't she look beautiful?"
Virgil's voice.
My eyes shot open.
Sunlight. Noise. The bus stop.
I blinked hard. My heart was pounding, my palms sweaty. The air smelled like heat and dust again. Everything was exactly the same.
Virgil stood beside me, pointing again at the girl. Same tone. Same words.
"What…" I whispered.
"You okay?" he asked, frowning slightly.
"Yeah… yeah, I'm fine." I tried to breathe, but the air felt thinner than before. "You won't believe me."
He raised an eyebrow but didn't press.
We got on the bus again, found the same seats. I leaned closer, whispering as we sat down.
"I saw something. The truck. The crash. It was real."
"Maybe it was a dream."
"No. It wasn't. I knew the time. 11:58. Everything happened exactly like I remember it."
Virgil grinned like this was a joke. "So what—you looped back in time?"
"I don't know what it is. But it felt real."
"Well, there's only one way to find out," he said.
Five Hours Later – Again
I stared at the road, hands gripping the seat in front of me.
"11:58," I said, checking my phone this time.
Virgil glanced at his own screen. "Still here."
"I told you nothing's happening," I said, though my voice didn't match the confidence I wanted it to.
"I'm glad you were wrong," he said. "I don't think I could survive a crash like that."
"If it plays out like I saw it, we might actually survive."
"Oh yeah? How?"
"Because we ar—"
Screech.
Crash.
The truck again. Same sound. Same collision. Same cold terror.
And then—
Nothing.
"Doesn't she look beautiful?"
My eyes flew open.
Same sun. Same people. Same girl. Same words.
I stared at Virgil as the breath left my chest.
It wasn't a dream.
It wasn't a glitch.
Time was resetting.
And I was the only one who knew.