Chapter 17: Willow's End (1)
EL'S APARTMENT - 6:02 AM - TUESDAY
BEEEEEP-BEEEEEP-BEEEEEP
El's eyes snapped open.
His alarm screamed.
He slapped it silently.
And lay there, gasping, the ghost of the Aletheia look-alike's kiss still warm on his forehead.
Tuesday.
He reached for his phone.
TUESDAY, SEPTEMBER 13 - 6:02 AM
Tuesday.
Again.
El sat up slowly, heart pounding.
The card was on his nightstand. He grabbed it.
Stop looking for the exit.
Sweet dreams, El.
The symbol.
The entrance is where you first found me.
All there.
All the same.
But the words from the "previous" Tuesday-The playground. Tonight. Midnight-were gone.
Faint traces remained, ghosts of ink, but they'd faded back into the card.
And beneath them, still visible:
Remember the flowers.
The flowers.
Memory's bloom. Heart's ease.
Forget-me-not-but-please-do.
She'd been real.
The dream had been real.
The tree had been real.
All of it.
And now he was back.
His phone buzzed.
DEMI :GOOD MORNING TUESDAY! DID YOU SURVIVE MONDAY? I ALMOST DIDN'T. JANET FROM ACCOUNTING GAVE ME THE LOOK. YOU KNOW THE LOOK.
Tuesday.
Demi had no idea.
El typed back.
EL:We need to talk. Before work. Your place. Now
DEMI :...THAT'S A LOT OF CAPITAL LETTERS FOR 6 AM. IS THIS A LIFE OR DEATH SITUATION? SHOULD I BRING SNACKS?
EL:Just be there.
---
DEMI'S APARTMENT - 6:45 AM
Demi opened the door in pajamas covered in cartoon cats, his hair somehow already perfect despite just waking up.
"Dude. It's not even 7 AM. This better be-"
El walked past him into the apartment.
"Shut up and listen."
Demi blinked.
"Okay. That's... that's new. You're usually the quiet one."
El sat on the couch, hands pressed together.
Demi sat across from him, for once not making a joke.
And El told him everything.
The playground.
The tree.
The symbol.
The figure on the road.
The jasmine breeze.
The nothing that happened.
The NeonCab ride home.
The dream of the Aletheia look-alike.
The flowers.
The kiss on his forehead.
Waking up to Tuesday.
Again.
Demi listened without interrupting.
No jokes.
No theatrical gestures.
Just... listening.
When El finished, Demi was quiet for a long moment.
"Okay."
His voice was calm.
Too calm.
"So you're telling me that we-you and me-went to a haunted playground last night. Found a tree with a creepy symbol.
Saw a mysterious figure on the road. And now I don't remember any of it because the loop reset."
"Yes."
"And you remember everything."
"Yes."
Demi stared at him.
Then he stood, walked to his kitchen, and returned with a bag of chips.
"I need carbs to process this."
He sat down, opened the bag, and crunched loudly.
"Okay. Evidence. You said you proved the loop before with the banana. Tell me something only I would know. Something from this 'previous Tuesday' that I don't remember."
El thought.
"The apple," he said.
"Janet from Accounting confronted you about another apple in the break room.
But it wasn't yours. She was joking. Janet from Accounting made a JOKE, Demi. You lost your mind."
Demi's hand froze mid-reach into the chip bag.
"Janet... made a joke?"
"Yes."
"Janet from Accounting?"
"Yes."
Demi was quiet for a long, long moment.
Then he grabbed his phone, scrolled through messages, and paled.
"There's no record of this," he whispered.
"No texts. No work chat. Nothing."
"Because it hasn't happened yet. In this Tuesday."
Demi set down the chips.
"Okay."
His voice is higher now.
"Okay. So either you're psychic, or we're actually in a time loop, or I'm having a shared hallucination, which honestly might be worse."
"You believed me before."
"I believed you before when I REMEMBERED believing you. Now I don't remember anything."
Demi ran his hands through his perfect hair.
"Give me a minute. I'm having an existential crisis."
"You have three minutes. Then we need to go to work."
"FINE. RUSH MY CRISIS. THAT'S FINE."
---
TATE ASSOCIATION - 8:47 AM
They walked into the building together, Demi still muttering about time loops and Janet from Accounting's secret sense of humor.
The elevator ride was silent.
The doors opened to the 9th floor.
And there, as if the universe had perfect timing, was Mira.
She stood outside the main office door, tablet in hand.
Today's blazer was navy blue.
Her hair was in that perfect severe bun. Not a strand out of place.
She looked up.
Their eyes met.
And instead of looking away-instead of the usual professional nod-Mira held his gaze.
Just for a second longer than necessary.
"Good morning, El."
Her voice was calm, but softer than usual.
"Good morning, Ma'am."
She walked toward him, stopping closer than strictly necessary.
Her perfume-flowers that went to business meetings-wrapped around him.
"You look..."
She paused, searching for the right word.
"Tired. But present."
El blinked.
"I slept. Eventually."
"Good."
Another pause. Another held gaze.
"You work too hard."
Before El could respond, she reached into her bag and pulled out a small paper bag.
Pushed it toward him.
"Leftover pastries from a meeting. I don't eat carbs before noon."
A slight flush crept up her cheeks.
"They'd just go to waste."
El took the bag, confused.
"Thank you, Ma'am."
"Mira."
The word came out quickly, then softer.
"You can call me Mira. Outside of work. If you want."
She didn't wait for a response.
Just turned and walked away, her heels clicking that familiar rhythm.
But at the end of the hallway, she glanced back.
Just once.
And smiled.
Demi grabbed El's arm.
"WHAT. WAS. THAT."
"I told you. In the previous Tuesday. She does this."
"SHE DOES THIS EVERY TUESDAY?!"
"Apparently."
Demi stared at him.
Then Mira's retreating form.
Then back at him.
"I need to sit down."
---
EL'S CUBICLE - 9:15 AM
Demi appeared over the cubicle wall approximately every seven minutes with new questions.
At 9:15: "So the tree. You're sure it had the symbol?"
"Yes."
"And nothing happened?"
"No."
"Huh."
At 9:22: "The figure on the road. You said it turned its head?"
"Yes."
"And I didn't see it?"
"No."
"So I'm useless in this timeline too?"
"I didn't say that."
"Your silence speaks volumes."
At 9:37: "The flowers. Memory's bloom, heart's ease, forget-me-not-but-please-do. You're sure about the names?"
"Yes."
"And the woman-the one who looks like Aletheia but isn't-she said you've been forgetting?"
"Yes."
Demi was quiet for a moment. Then:
"El. What if she's right? What if you've been forgetting something important?"
El didn't answer.
Because he'd been thinking the same thing all morning.
---
EL'S CUBICLE - 11:30 AM
Mira appeared at the entrance to his cubicle row.
Not with a task.
Not with a deadline.
With a coffee cup.
She set it on the edge of his desk-a real coffee, from somewhere better than Whimsy.
The cup was ceramic, not paper.
Steam rose from the top.
"You look like you need this," she said quietly.
El stared at it.
"Ma'am, you didn't have to-"
"Mira."
A small smile.
"And I know I didn't have to. I wanted to."
She walked away before he could respond.
Demi materialized immediately.
"THAT WAS NOT A PROFESSIONAL INTERACTION. THAT WAS A DATE. A COFFEE DATE. SHE BROUGHT YOU COFFEE. IN A CUP. A REAL CUP."
"It's just coffee."
"IT'S NEVER JUST COFFEE."
El looked at the cup.
Smelled it.
Real coffee.
Good coffee.
Something warm settled in his chest.
But beneath it, something else.
Guilt.
Because Kaye was out there. Fading. Waiting.
And here was Mira, real and warm and here, offering him something real.
He pushed the thought away.
---
EL'S CUBICLE - 2:30 PM
The afternoon crawled toward evening.
El stared at his Q3 projections-70% done, ahead of schedule, numbers singing their usual song.
But his mind wasn't on spreadsheets.
The house.
His childhood home.
Willow's End.
He hadn't been there in twenty years.
Hadn't thought about it in almost as long.
But now, after the playground, after the flowers, after everything-he needed to go back.
He typed a message to Demi.
EL:After work. We're going somewhere.
DEMI :LET ME GUESS. ANOTHER HAUNTED LOCATION?
EL:My childhood home.
DEMI:...YOU HAD A CHILDHOOD HOME?
EL:Everyone had a childhood home, Demi.
DEMI :I MEAN I'VE NEVER HEARD YOU TALK ABOUT IT. THIS IS BIG. THIS IS BACKSTORY. I'M EMOTIONALLY INVESTED.
EL:Just... come with me.
DEMI :ALWAYS.
---
TATE ASSOCIATION - 4:45 PM - CLOCKING OUT
El grabbed his bag and walked toward the exit.
Demi was already there, bouncing on his heels.
"So. Childhood home. Willow's End. What's the deal? Is it creepy? Is it abandoned? Does it have a dark family secret? I need details."
"I don't remember."
Demi blinked.
"You don't remember your own childhood home?"
"I don't remember a lot of things."
El pressed the elevator button. "That's the problem."
They stepped inside.
The doors closed.
And for the first time, El let himself think about what they might find.
---
WILLOW'S END - 6:30 PM
The house sat at the end of a quiet street, surrounded by trees that had grown massive in the two decades since El had last seen it.
A willow tree dominated the front yard, its branches hanging low like tired arms, brushing against the overgrown grass.
The house itself was old but intact.
Two stories.
Faded white paint.
A wraparound porch. Windows that reflected the golden evening light like empty eyes.
Demi whistled low.
"This is where you grew up?"
"I think so."
"You THINK so?"
El walked toward the front door.
The porch creaked under his feet.
The doorknob was cold in his hand.
Locked.
He reached under the welcome mat-a stupid place to hide a key, but his mother had always-
His fingers touched metal.
The key was still there.
After twenty years.
El unlocked the door.
Pushed it open.
The smell hit him first.
Dust.
Old wood.
Something sweet, almost like flowers, long faded.
He stepped inside.
Demi followed, the flashlight was already out, sweeping the darkness.
The living room was frozen in time.
Furniture covered in sheets.
A piano in the corner.
Photographs on the walls, their frames crooked, their images faded.
They walked through the house in silence.
Kitchen.
Dining room.
Stairs creaking under their weight.
Upstairs.
A hallway.
Three doors.
El knew which one.
He walked to the end of the hall.
Placed his hand on the doorknob.