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Chapter 3 - The Other Versions

I wake up again, the familiar buzz of the alarm filling the silence of my room. The same morning, the same routine. But today is different. Today, I feel something I haven't felt before — a sense of presence, like I'm not alone in this loop.

I roll out of bed, my feet touching the cold floor. The mirror, as always, reflects my tired face. But then, something catches my eye — a flicker in the glass. For a split second, I swear I saw someone else. Another version of me, standing behind me. But when I turn around, there's nothing there. Just the empty room.

It's not the first time I've had a strange feeling about the mirror. But this time, it's different. This time, I know something is wrong.

I try to shake it off, to convince myself that it's just the usual anxiety, but the feeling lingers. It's like the world is pressing in on me, like the boundaries between time and space are starting to blur.

I decide to change things up. I leave my apartment earlier than usual, even though I know the street will look the same as always. But as I step out of the building, I see something that makes me pause.

A man walks by. He's wearing the same jacket as me, the same shoes, even the same expression on his face. He looks at me for a moment, and I can see it — a flicker of recognition, a brief moment where his eyes meet mine with an unsettling sense of familiarity. I freeze for a second, wondering if I'm seeing things. But when I blink, he's gone, blending into the crowd.

I take a deep breath, trying to push the thought aside. I'm imagining things. I'm tired, I've been stuck in this cycle too long. But as I walk toward the subway station, I notice another figure — another version of me, just a few steps ahead. He's walking in the same direction, wearing the same clothes, with the same tired expression. But there's something different about him. His posture is straighter, more confident. He walks with purpose, as if he knows exactly where he's going.

I speed up, trying to catch up, but he turns the corner, vanishing into the crowd. I stand there for a moment, my heart racing. It's not possible. I'm seeing things. But the feeling — that strange sense of recognition — is undeniable.

I'm not the only one. There are others, versions of me, living out different lives within the same day. And they don't just look like me; they are me. Every choice, every path I've taken, seems to have created another version of myself, walking parallel to me in this never-ending loop.

I don't know how I know this, but I do. The weight of it presses down on me, the realization that I'm not unique in this cycle. I'm just one of many fragments, scattered versions of a single consciousness. We are all connected, but we can't see each other clearly. We can't communicate. We are just… echoes of the same self, lost in the same cycle.

The thought is overwhelming. I try to push it away, but it keeps coming back. The more I think about it, the more I realize that my choices — even the smallest ones — matter more than I ever realized. Every action I take, every decision I make, creates another version of me, another possibility. And each of these versions is living out a different version of the same day.

I can't escape. No matter what I do, no matter how many choices I make, I'll always wake up to the same morning. The same loop.

But… maybe there's a way to change it. Maybe if I find the others, if I can understand how they live their versions of the day, I can find a way to break free. If we can all come together, if we can combine our knowledge, our experiences, maybe we can unlock the key to escape.

I don't know where to start. But I know I can't do it alone.

I begin walking again, but this time, I'm not following my usual path. I'm looking for something — or someone. The other versions of myself. The other fragments of the loop.

I don't know how, but I'll find them.