The next day came.
Like every other.
Elliot woke before dawn, washed up, dressed in silence.
He didn't eat breakfast — just like always.
Outside, the wind was colder than usual.
The city was still half-asleep when he left the apartment.
He stopped at the same vending machine. Bought the same cold canned coffee.
Held it like habit, not intention.
Didn't even open it.
Work passed in a slow gray blur. Same faces, same sounds, same pointless meetings.
When the clock finally let go of him, he stood up to leave.
"Hey, yo!" a voice called out behind him.
Elliot turned around.
It was Matt, one of his subordinates. Young, loud, and obnoxiously cheerful — the type who always spoke in exclamation points.
"How was your day, man?" Matt grinned. "Listen, there's this drinking party tonight. Chill bar. A few girls I met online are coming too. Wanna give it a try?"
Elliot opened his mouth, ready to give the usual quiet "no."
But something strange happened.
Time slowed.
The world thickened, like moving through water.
A high-pitched metallic hum rang in his ears — sharp and unnatural.
It wasn't the sound of time—it was the sound of a door closing.
The same sound from the night Claire left.
And then, that voice again.
Low. Heavy. Calm.
"Elliot. Time's precious.
When you think you've grabbed it, you end up realizing you didn't."
"There's no way for everyone to be happy.
Happiness is relative anyway — and people want it that way. Evil's relative too. To protect her child, a mother can turn into a demon."
The voice faded into silence.
Then—
Time snapped back.
Matt was still grinning. "So? You in?"
Elliot blinked. His hand twitched around the strap of his bag.
"…Sure," he said quietly. "I'll come."
They walked into the bar around 7 PM.
It was crowded. Warm. Too loud.
People smiled wide. Glasses clinked.
Fake laughter filled the air like perfume.
Queen's "You're My Best Friend" played faintly over old ceiling speakers, buried beneath the noise.
"Ooh, you make me live…"
Elliot followed Matt through the crowd, his steps slow.
He'd never been to a bar before. Everything about it felt off — from the colors to the laughter to the heat pressed against his skin.
They found a booth. Elliot slid into the corner. Matt waved at passing girls. Ordered drinks.
Beer was placed in front of Elliot. He didn't touch it.
He sat stiff, staring into the glass like it held answers.
Then, a voice—soft and familiar—cut through the chaos.
"Nice to meet again, Mr. Ordinary Salaryman."
Elliot turned.
There she was.
June.
No apron. No coffee tray. Just a simple coat, damp from the rain, and a tilted smile.
She stood beside the booth, half-lit by a flickering neon sign.
"Didn't think I'd see you here."
"…Neither did I," Elliot said.
For a moment, the music faded.
The laughter blurred.
And the bar no longer felt like a place he didn't belong in.
End of Chapter 3