Out of the Loop

The Air Feels Different

It took Amie Teller all of twenty-three minutes to realize that she was no longer in a time loop.

When the text came in, she instinctively swiped the notification away. The puzzle was almost complete; she’d look at the text when she finished. Just a few more—

Wait.

Sitting up in bed, she stared at the spot at the top of her screen where she’d seen the notification.

Did I imagine that? she thought, adrenaline shooting through her body.

Amie finally began taking in her surroundings, her heartbeat quickening at every new observation. The clothes she’d worn the day before were still sitting where they’d been tossed on top of the hamper, grass stains streaking her favorite pair of jeans.

She hadn’t given it a second thought the day before when she’d dropped to her knees in the grass to “look” for the ring lost by Hallie From The Park.

She’d known exactly where the ring was, having found it many times before.

Some days, when Amie was feeling especially starved for company, she’d spend a few minutes on the lawn with Hallie From The Park, passively patting down the grass as she listened to the other woman talk about her sunrise yoga class and its stuck-up instructor.

Amie would never let the charade go on for longer than five minutes—Hallie From The Park had dinner plans with her boyfriend, and was anxious that she’d lost the ring forever.

Amie hadn’t been anxious about losing things for a long time. Similarly, she’d stopped caring about transient things like grass stains on jeans. The time loop was more effective than the strongest stain remover on the market.

The air feels different, Amie thought, tearing her gaze away from the dirty laundry as she looked to the window.

There wasn’t much of a perceivable difference, but for someone who had lived the same day seven hundred and sixty-ish times, the difference was there.

Amie wouldn’t have known how to put it into words. It was just different.

She didn’t even remember jumping out of bed when she heard the truck beeping outside.

Finding herself at the window, she threw back the curtains and looked down at the street.

A tow truck was backing up toward a car parked along the yellow curb, which was maybe the most exciting thing Amie had seen in ages.

As she pushed open the window and stuck out her head, something cold and wet hit the top of it. Heart pounding, she twisted to look up.

It was raining.

It was raining.

She stared at the dark clouds until a large raindrop landed directly in her eye, startling her out of the almost hypnotic effect the overcast sky was having on her. She hadn’t seen rain clouds in over two years.

Feeling overwhelmed, Amie retreated into her bedroom. She sat down on the floor before her legs could give out and send her there a lot faster than she would have preferred.

She was still clutching her phone, but it was a struggle to tear her eyes away from the open window, as if the new day might disappear if it was no longer being perceived.

Finally, she mustered up the courage to look back down at her phone, hand shaking as she read the new message.

Ziya: Hiya, feeling better this morning?

Amie stared at the text for a long, long time. To be exact, it was two minutes and eleven seconds, but it was definitely an excessive amount of time to spend staring at a six-word text message. Then again, Amie hadn’t been familiar with the concept of “wasting time” in quite a bit of it.

Bubbles popped up on the screen as Ziya began typing again, and Amie almost dropped the phone in surprise. (“Being surprised” was also a concept she hadn’t been familiar with in some time.)

Ziya: Lmk when you’re free to reschedule our dinner

Ziya: Unless you’re not ready. Totally fine!!

Amie winced. Ziya thought she’d canceled because she didn’t want to go. In Amie’s reality, she had gone on their “friend date” dozens of times. In Ziya’s reality, Amie had texted her about a massive migraine, requesting they postpone their dinner.

The excuse was weak, of course. Amie didn’t get migraines, and Ziya knew that. The weakness of the excuse never really mattered, though. She never thought she’d have to deal with the repercussions of Ziya not buying her lie.

Amie locked the phone. She’d reply sometime later, maybe. It didn’t really matter.

No, she corrected herself. It does matter. Things matter now.

She was still sitting on the floor. Standing up felt both incredibly exciting and horribly intimidating.

Still having yet to reacquaint herself with the concept of wasting time, Amie sat on the floor for half an hour, trying to figure out what different and exciting thing she was going to do to celebrate this brand-new day.

Finally, as her stomach began to rumble, she gave up, put on her shoes, and headed for the café to get her long-awaited blueberry bagel.