Chapter 7: Days Without Loops

"Everyone did well in this monthly test—let’s skip Alex Carter and go straight to second place..."

Mr. Thompson’s voice rang out, a little too breezy. The class let out a collective sigh, half amused, half annoyed.

The familiar words echoed from the front. Mr. Thompson’s tone and expression hadn’t changed at all.

Even his corny jokes couldn’t break my focus now. I waited, breath held, for the telltale tug of the loop. Nothing happened.

Hearing this, I let out a long sigh of relief. No time loop.

For a moment, the world was real again. I almost smiled.

At this moment, I felt a rare sense of ease. Every time a test ended without triggering the loop, I cherished this brief period of time. Because on days without loops, the passage of time feels real and vivid.

It was like seeing colors after months of grayscale. Every second felt alive, brimming with possibility.

I looked out the window. Sunlight filtered through the maple leaves, casting dappled patterns on the classroom floor. The wind gently stirred the curtains, like a soft hand brushing through the room.

I watched dust motes dance in the sunlight, the sound of laughter drifting in from the gym. For a moment, it was enough just to be present, to breathe.

In these ordinary moments, I felt a deep sense of peace. Because everything that comes next is unknown—and the unknown means something new.

I thought about what might happen next: college, a summer job, maybe a road trip with friends. I realized, for the first time in ages, I was curious.

Humans are creatures driven by curiosity. If everything is predetermined, what’s the point of living?

The possibility of surprise, of something unexpected, was the only thing that still tasted sweet.