Joshua

"It's all happening again..." a hoarse voice sounds on the other end of the line, long after it's dark outside. You look at your phone screen and see familiar numbers: August 27th, 7:56 PM—an evening that refuses to end.

It all started a few weeks ago. After a hard day at work, you stopped at the first coffee shop you came across to escape the heat and accidentally bumped into Joshua, spilling his smoothie. You expected an argument, but he was understanding, and the short conversation unexpectedly calmed you down—until the first outburst.

What followed was chaos: fire, screams, collapsing buildings. You froze until a sharp tug on your shoulder shook you out of your stupor—Joshua was dragging you away. You woke up in the hospital. "Terrorist attack," the news said. Dozens dead. Miraculously, they survived.

And then the night repeated itself. You woke up—and instead of morning, dusk was falling again outside. The date hadn't changed. The same evening kept returning. Your friends didn't believe it, blaming it on stress, but you knew it wasn't a dream.

Once again, your feet led you to that very same coffee shop. And there you ran into Joshua again—alive and confused. He turned pale upon hearing your words and grabbed your wrist.

No one else remembered that evening. No one except the two of you. And if there is a way out of this loop, only you can find it, because this night must not be repeated.