Elias Rowe never needed an alarm. Every night, without fail, his eyes opened at 3:17 a.m.The moment when the world held its breath. The room was silent. No wind. No distant traffic. Even time itself seemed unsure whether to move forward.Elias sat up in bed and whispered the same question he had asked for years."Tomorrow?"The air trembled. His vision blurred for a second, and then—the next day arrived early. Sunlight poured through the window. His phone buzzed with messages dated twenty-four hours ahead. Outside, the city lived a day it wasn't supposed to reach yet. Elias exhaled slowly. Another borrowed tomorrow. He checked the news first.No explosions. No accidents involving his name. No warnings.Good.Borrowing a tomorrow always felt like stealing a page from a book before reading the chapter before it. Dangerous, but useful.He showered, dressed, and left the apartment, already knowing which streets to avoid, which conversations to fake, which smiles to wear. The future had become his instruction manual.And yet—Something felt wrong.At the corner café, where he usually bought coffee during borrowed days, the chair across from him was occupied.By a woman he had never seen before. She looked up and smiled."You're late," she said.Elias froze.No one ever recognized him in borrowed time."Do I… know you?" he asked.She tilted her head. "You're funny. Sit down, Elias."His heart skipped.For the first time in years, tomorrow surprised him.
Tomorrow had become his instruction manual.
And for the first time, it was about to fail him.