Original prompt by u/Kitty_Fuchs: https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/1cxg5v8/wp_you_are_stuck_in_a_time_loop_but_you_have_no/
What joy is there in living the same day every day?
“Good morning, dear.”
I opened my eyes, seeing a smiling face looking at me. The visage of my love, Alex, bright, open eyes still seemingly yearning for sleep.
“Hey,” a stupid grin came over my face. “Let’s go back to sleep.”
“Awfully chipper for a non-morning person,” Alex said. “And also, an exceptionally stupid idea for two people that need to go to work pronto.”
It was the same old song and dance, again and again. You can get pretty good at this sort of thing if you had millions of opportunities to perfect it.
“Come on,” I said. “It’s easy. I’m not feeling well. You’re not feeling well.”
Alex paused, staring at me.
“You. You? The model employee, lover of crunch, suggesting taking a day off of work?”
“Yes,” I said. “That’s how you know it’s important.”
“What’s… oh no,” Alex groaned. “Did I forget something? An anniversary? A birthday? No, that was in June!”
“No, no. I just feel like we haven’t had much time together, you know? And honestly, I’m not feeling my greatest,” I said. “One day won’t hurt.”
Alex eyed me suspiciously. It was difficult not to swoon down onto the floor and cry that this man was my husband.
“Fine,” he said. “It’s been almost two months since my last sick day, anyway.”
“Amazing,” I beamed.
“This is still very suspicious, Bill,” Alex said. “You’ve got some special plans I should be knowing?”
“Let’s take a day to ourselves. Chill, you know?” I said. “Watch some shows. Cuddle a lot. Eat cereal in bed.”
“Oh, a man after my own heart!”
Have you tried making a list of all the things you did today? It could be something like:
Had some breakfast.
Watched a few episodes of Seinfeld.
Lunch.
Rotted in bed with my husband.
Dinner.
A few lines to encapsulate a day’s existence. But it could also be like:
We had a wonderful home-cooked breakfast. It was a little indulgent, sure, but you only live once. The smell of bacon permeated the air, and at first, it was amazing, only to feel like I’m smoking pig fat into my lungs about two hours later. Bacon and eggs were still worth it, however.
These episodes of Seinfeld? Watched a million times. But giggling by yourself is, quite literally, half as fun as when the love of your life—also a fan of the show—is cuddled up next to you, small ripples of laughter coursing through him and into your own body.
Lunch was take out. I tried something adventurous, by my standards, skipping the usual double cheeseburger for… a double cheeseburger, but made with bison meat! Alex got a steak salad, because he’s a better man than me, but we both enjoyed our meals. Bison meat is just gamier beef, by the way, sans the LED lights.
We’ll skip this part.
We decided to head out into town for dinner, hopefully “feeling better” from our aforementioned illnesses. Gino’s was an old favourite of ours, and Italian is something we’ll always love. Alex settled for a mushroom risotto, while I decided that those parmesan gnocchi were worth a potential trip to the toilet. Dinner was accompanied by a delicious wine. Alex swore that it was way too expensive for a normal day out, but I assured him that it would be alright.
Smiles and laughters turned into minutes, and conversations turned into hours. It didn’t take too long before we were once again in bed, facing each other, hoping dinner breath was a bygone problem.
“That was fun,” Alex said. “I still don’t know what got into you today. Especially that wine! But I enjoyed it.”
“And we’ll enjoy many more. Millions more,” I smiled, content in knowing that I was telling the truth.
Because when my eyes closed, and I went off for a short adjournment to dreamland, I would find myself in the same spot, once again. Alex would be staring at me again, and I’ll propose the same thing again. Maybe try another burger. Get another wine that’s far too expensive. Make another—
Oh. The stomach rumbled. The parmesan was speaking in clear and unadulterated tones.
I gingerly pushed myself off the bed. Alex doesn’t wake up from a thunderstorm, so he shouldn’t be jolted awake from something like this. I made my way to the bathroom, rubbing my tired eyes on the way.
“You shouldn’t be here.”
I flipped around so fast and so hard that I should have dislocated my hips. Someone was standing right there, out in the open, and I wanted to scream, and I wanted to throw everything I could reach at them, but…
A strange calm overtook me. The shock and surprise were still there, just… held deep underwater, still sending waves and reverberations, but imperceptible through all the tranquil water.
“Excuse me,” I said. “If there’s one person that shouldn’t be here, it’s the not-owner of the house that’s creepily standing in a corner.”
Wait. This shouldn’t be happening. This person hasn’t been here. So he can’t be here. Nothing’s ever changed, except for some little small things here and there, not whole new people appearing out of nowhere.
The person walked forward, with nary a sound. He was difficult to see, a shroud of mist existing perpetually and purely over him.
“You shouldn’t be here,” he said again.
His voice was quiet, but with the sort of silence that could flood a room. Each word was a drop of cold November rain, each peltering drop sending chills down my spine.
“I…”
“You’ve been in this day for far too long,” he said. “This loop has gone on for five million, eight hundred and twenty-two thousand, four hundred and thirteen times.”
“How could you…”
The words trailed off, no period capping off the sentence. The end need not be said.
“I’m terribly sorry,” he said. “This time might seem infinite to you. But the sands run out. I have come to collect.”
I shrugged.
“It was a far-off hope anyway,” I whispered. “Coming back from the doctor’s yesterday… I really wasn’t feeling well. It was difficult to break the news. And somehow, the day kept starting. Over and over. I hope I made good use of it.”
He stayed quiet and still.
“Do I get time to say goodbye?”
Time halted for a moment. The voice spoke again, this time like bone grating against bone.
“Did you not say it every night?”
“I did. But this is the last one.”
Instead of answering, he reached into his misty cloak, pulling out a cracked hourglass. All the sand was pooled on the bottom. He turned it briefly, allowing a small stream of sand to fall the other way.
I smiled a small smile, and took gentle steps towards the bedroom. The same steps I’ve taken millions of times, now leaden with finality. I pushed the door in, walked towards the bed, and watched him sleep—the constant in my life, a never-changing silhouette.
“Good night, dear,” I said.
There was no reply. As there had been no replies for a million nights.
There would be no more good morning, either.
I laid down in the bed, throwing an arm over him.
“These have truly been the best days of my life,” I said, closing my eyes. All it did was squeeze the hot tears out.
What joy was there in living the same day every day?
Plenty, it turned out.
Draconiques Drafts 