Screech of the door. Alarm clock. Bright light through the window. A regular weekday. Everything is just as it always is. And yet... something's off.
I open my eyes and see the same face in the reflection. I wake up in my small apartment, in this day — in this moment — just like yesterday. Everything is the same. I hear the noise from the street, the smell of coffee from the kitchen, the soft rustle of the window blinds. But then, that feeling — like this has all happened before, and not just once.
The alarm rings again — exactly like the last time. I turn it off, but I can't focus. I woke up at the wrong time again. An hour too early. The same morning ritual. It's too familiar. Too… enclosed.
I get up, and my movements are mechanical once more: wash up, get dressed, drink coffee. Every step, every movement, like a memorized routine, a chain of identical links that don't form a whole. Everything is too familiar. Too… trapped.
I leave the apartment. Same hallway, same elevator smell, same creaking of the stairs. And there it is — the street. People heading to work, cars, buses, street signs. I look at the time — exactly 8:00 AM. No surprise.
But here's the weird part: with every step I take, I feel like I've seen this before. I know how the day will unfold. Not because I'm so used to this routine — no, I feel like I can already predict how everything will end. How lunch will go, how I'll meet a friend on the corner, how I'll go to the office and sit down at the same desk. As if it's all playing out in my head, but for some reason, I can't influence the course of events.
So I make my first move — something unusual: I decide to stay in the office during lunch. Do something out of the ordinary. Maybe this will change something?
But to my surprise, the moment I open the office door and meet the gaze of my coworker — the one I always greet but never speak more than a few words with — today, I decide to talk. Strangely, this conversation isn't much different from the ones I've had before, but there's still a feeling of novelty. He even offers to help me with a new project.
I go back home, not feeling much has changed. Time seems to be following the same cycle.
I lie down to sleep, and then it comes back again — that sensation… as if I've just woken up. No. I'm not waking up. I'm still asleep. Still in this day.
Now, I start to understand. This day doesn't end. I'm not the only one living it over and over. All those small changes, even talking to my coworker — they're just choices I could have made... or not. I have power. I can change something. But what if I make all the choices differently? Can I find a way out of this endless loop?
I wake up again, and a plan begins to form in my mind. I'll seek these changes. I'll make choices that will get me out of this day, out of this loop.
But where will these choices lead? And how many of these days will I have to live through?