Chapter 39: The Lost Tuesday (6)
TATE ASSOCIATION – EL'S CUBICLE – 4:40 PM
The office was quiet.
Not the peaceful kind of quiet. The hollow kind. The kind that settled in after everyone had left — after the keyboards stopped clicking, after the phones stopped ringing, after the whispers faded into nothing.
El sat at his desk.
The dust was still there.
He hadn't moved it. Hadn't touched it. Hadn't even looked at it.
He was staring at nothing.
The white flower is me.
The garden is the loop.
The shadow is Kaye.
I'm the one who needs saving.
Not her.
Me.
He pressed his palms against his eyes.
Why?
Why is the garden made of me?
Why are the flowers fragments of me?
Memory's bloom. Heart's ease. Forget-me-not-but-please-do.
They're mine.
All mine.
But why?
He thought about the first time he saw them. The Aletheia look-alike. The soft one. The guide. She'd walked him through the garden, named each flower, explained what they meant.
"Memory's bloom. They're made of memories. Yours. Hers. Everyone who's ever come here."
"Heart's ease. They bloom when someone finds peace."
"Forget-me-not-but-please-do. They bloom when someone is trying to forget."
She said most of them were his.
He didn't understand then.
He thought he understood now.
But did he?
Really?
He thought about Aletheia. The real one. The sharp one from the coffee shop. The one who gave him the card.
"Stop looking for the exit."
"Start looking for the entrance."
"The loops are collapsing. You're running out of time."
She'd said those words in the coffee shop. In the loops. Over and over.
But she never explained what they meant.
She never explained anything.
She just watched.
Just warned.
Just waited.
Why?
What was she waiting for?
What did she want from him?
He thought about Willow's End. His childhood home. The dust. The silence. The photograph with his parents' faces blurred.
He couldn't remember them.
He couldn't remember their voices. Their laughs. The way they tucked him into bed at night.
Nothing.
But he remembered Kaye.
A flash. A moment. A laugh.
"I'll draw it again. So I don't forget."
"You won't forget, El. I'll always be here."
She was there.
In his childhood.
In his home.
In his memories.
But why couldn't he remember her face?
Why was she blurred like his parents?
Why was everyone he loved blurred?
He thought about the date. 12/09/30.
The news archive. The one that had appeared on his phone. The one he'd almost ignored.
He closed his eyes. Tried to remember the headline.
"Young Woman Committed After Claiming She 'Consumed' Her Lover to Keep Him Forever."
El's stomach turned.
A woman who loved someone so much she tried to keep him forever.
She ended up in a mental hospital.
The date. 12/09/30.
Why did that article appear on his phone?
Why now?
What did it have to do with Kaye?
He thought about the shadow. The figure. The one who'd been watching him since the beginning.
The one from the road.
The one from the bookstore.
The one who shattered his pen into sand.
The one Nev said was the real Kaye.
"She's afraid."
"Afraid of losing you."
"Afraid of being forgotten."
Was that what the headline meant?
Was the shadow the woman who tried to consume her lover?
Was she committed?
Was that why she was trapped in the loops?
Or was she the one trapping him?
He didn't know.
He didn't know anything.
He looked at his phone.
April 2060.
This timeline. This lost Tuesday. This loop.
He'd lost count of how many times he'd gone back.
How many Mondays. How many Tuesdays. How many days he couldn't remember.
Weeks. Months. Maybe longer.
He didn't even know anymore.
He thought about the barista. The tired-eyed man from Whimsy. The one who'd warned him.
"If I were you, I wouldn't go back there."
He didn't listen.
He went back to the playground.
He used the cracker.
He opened the door.
And now he was stuck.
He thought about the boss. The man in the charcoal suit. The one who'd called him to the front of the department.
"If you know the pattern, does it mean you already have the answer?"
"At what point do you stop redoing the report and go back to the original?"
"Not everyone who watches you wants to help you."
Two different men.
Two different warnings.
But they felt connected.
The barista warned him not to go back.
The boss told him to go back to the original.
One said don't.
One said do.
Which one was right?
Were either of them right?
Or were they both playing their own game?
Using him as a piece on a board he couldn't see?
El's hands trembled.
The playground.
The ritual.
But not with the cracker.
The cracker was gone.
Demi ate it.
Just... ate it.
Like it was nothing.
But maybe—
Maybe he didn't need the cracker.
Maybe he needed something else.
Something ordinary.
A biscuit.
He almost laughed.
A biscuit.
The boss asked if he'd trade a biscuit for a cracker.
He didn't understand then.
He thought he understood now.
Go back to the original.
Not the cracker.
The biscuit.
The ordinary.
The beginning.
Before he lost himself.
The playground. The ritual. A biscuit. Go back to the original.
Is that the answer?
Is that really the answer?
Or was he just making things up?
Trying to find meaning where there was none?
Trying to—
He stopped.
What if the boss wasn't talking about the project?
What if he was talking about him?
What if "go back to the original" meant something else?
Something he hadn't figured out yet?
Something he was missing?
What if he was wrong about all of it?
The white flower.
The garden.
The shadow.
The ritual.
The biscuit.
What if none of it was real?
What if he was just... crazy?
What if Demi was right?
What if it was all in his head?
What if—
"Hey."
He looked up.
Demi was at the cubicle wall. Grinning.
"You're doing the staring thing again."
El didn't answer.
Demi's grin faded. "You okay? You've been sitting here for like an hour. Everyone left."
El opened his mouth. Closed it.
Tell him.
Tell him everything.
The white flower. The garden. The shadow. The ritual. The biscuit.
He won't believe you.
He never believes you.
But maybe—
"I'm fine," El said.
Demi studied him. Didn't believe him. But didn't push.
"Okay," Demi said quietly. "Okay."
He grabbed a chip from his bag and crunched it.
El looked at the dust.
Looked at the clock.
4:50 PM.
Tomorrow.
I'll go back to the playground.
I'll perform the ritual.
I'll go back to the original.
Or I won't.
Or I can't.
Or I'm already too late.
But I have to try.
I have to—
"Hey."
El blinked. Looked up.
Demi was still there. Leaning against the cubicle wall. Chip bag crinkling.
"Oh, I almost forgot."
Demi's face lit up — that familiar, chaotic grin.
"Mira said the boss applauded your work. Said to keep up the good job."
El stared at him.
"That's it?"
"That's it."
Demi shrugged.
"Oh, and he also said—"
He paused. Made a face. Like he was trying to remember something unimportant.
"Stop overthinking."
El's chest tightened.
Stop overthinking.
Why would the boss say that?
Why would he—
"Yeah, weird right?" Demi crunched another chip.
"The last part of his message was kinda out of nowhere. Like, why would he say that? You're not overthinking. You're barely thinking. You're just... staring."
Demi waved a hand in front of El's face.
"Seriously, El. You look like a zombie. You need to stop overthinking. Actually, you know what? Just stop thinking entirely. Let your brain rot in peace. It's clearly trying to."
El's eyebrow twitched.
"That's not how brains work."
"See? You're doing it right now."
Demi pointed at him.
"Overthinking. About brains. About how brains work. It's a spiral, El. A spiral of unnecessary thoughts."
El didn't respond.
Demi sighed. Pushed off the wall.
"Okay. Well. I'm going home. You should too. Before you turn into a permanent fixture of that chair."
He walked away.
El looked at the dust.
Stop overthinking.
Why would the boss say that?
Was he talking about the project?
Or was he talking about something else?
Something I haven't figured out yet?
Something I'm missing?
What if—
What if I'm wrong about all of it?
What if—