Elias sat by the window of his small flat, eyes lazily tracking the rhythm of raindrops on the glass. Outside, the world moved on with indifference, but inside his head, time was tangled in loops he barely understood.
He hadn't dreamt for three days now. Not the usual dreams, at least. No flashes of old clocks or collapsing buildings. Just blankness. And somehow, that felt worse.
He sighed, glancing toward the cluttered bookshelf across the room. As he stood to make tea, something fell from the top shelf with a soft thud.
A leather-bound notebook.
He frowned. The thing looked old and cracked at the edges, but familiar. Picking it up, he turned it in his hands. No title. No name.
He sat back down and opened it.
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Entry 7 - April 12
I think this is the second time I've lived through this day. Or maybe third? It's starting to get blurry. I bumped into the same woman at the café, spilled coffee in the same pattern. She looked at me like she knew me, but I didn't recognize her. Or maybe I forgot.
I need to stop this. But also—I need to understand it. If I forget again, I hope I find this.
Elias
---
He froze. That was his name. And that was his handwriting.
He flipped through more pages. Some were scribbled chaotically, some clear and calm. Each entry hinted at experiences he couldn't recall but felt deep in his bones. Moments repeating, decisions changing outcomes, dreams bleeding into reality.
He placed the book on his lap. "I wrote this? When?"
There was no memory of writing in it. None. But the handwriting—his loops, the way he always dotted the 'i' a bit too far to the right—it was unmistakably his.
Was this what he had forgotten?
His phone buzzed.
Noah: "Hey, you okay? You've been quiet since yesterday. Want to meet?"
He typed, then paused. Could he tell them about this? Would they think he was losing it?
He stared at the book again. If this was real, then maybe the dreams weren't just dreams. Maybe they were memories. Memories from other timelines? From forgotten loops?
He scribbled quickly on a blank page:
Entry 1 - (New)
Found the journal today. I don't remember writing any of it. I think I'm losing track of myself. Or maybe I already did. I need to keep this safe. It might be the only part of me that remembers.
He closed it gently. Rain had stopped.
And outside, someone in a grey hoodie stared up at his window.
Elias blinked.
But the figure was gone.
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