Chapter 3 Noelle
3 Noelle
June 20, Version 3
Wordle taunts me with h-a-p-p-y , and all my work on the proposal is gone. I want to tear out my hair in frustration because it feels like nothing I do matters. It’ll all be erased tomorrow… when I repeat June 20 rather than actually getting to June 21.
I slump in my kitchen chair as I sip my coffee. What’s the point in repeating the day if I can’t make any progress on that proposal? Why even bother going to the office?
Seriously. Why bother working?
I freeze as a terrible idea overtakes me. In the decade since I started working for Woods there are always consequences.
Spontaneously quit your job? You won’t be able to pay your bills.
Eat an entire large meat lover’s pizza? You’ll feel sick.
Get drunk? You’ll be hungover.
Don’t do your homework? You’ll get a bad mark.
I’m used to looking before I leap. But if I have to be stuck in on June 20, maybe I can afford not to think about the consequences for once, though I can’t imagine why this would be a good thing. It reminds me of my uncle, who passed away a couple of years ago. His life was always in shambles due to his terrible decisions.
That evening, while making myself a simple dinner—I don’t bother going to the night market again—I accidentally nick my finger. It’s not terribly painful, but it’s bloody. As I put on a bandage, I realize it’s the perfect way to test the time loop further.
Hypothesis: when I wake up tomorrow morning, there will be no dinosaur bandage. (I usually don’t buy dinosaur bandages, but they were the cheapest ones the last time I went to the pharmacy.) There will be no mark on my skin either.
Indeed, my hypothesis is confirmed the next morning, and somehow, this is what makes my new reality truly sink in: the lack of consequences, even when it comes to my body.
My life is now a strange, strange place. I no longer feel like Noelle Tom, responsible eldest daughter and engineer. No, I’m…
Who am I?