Dawn.

I ride my bicycle to the nearest library. The empty roads embody ones from a ghost town. Most people—or, rather, the ones who have not been trapped yet—are still asleep.

The wind lashes out at my face as if trying to hold me back. But I don't stop. I pedal on, only to slow down, once I reach my destination by the sea. Upon arrival, I open a wooden, windowed door. A gold-adorned bell chimes above my head.

A quick look around tells me I’m the first one to arrive, after the librarian. Though, it’s not as if she ever truly left.

The library is of a moderate size, and lacks renovations. People were much too afraid to return, for they speculated that if one Anomaly showed up, there would soon be many more. I cannot say whether their apprehensions are justified; I visit this place on the daily, live with two Anomalies, and yet, here I am, still moving, still here.

Who is chosen, who stays, may all be a random choice, a slice of bad luck, if nothing more.

As a looming silence settles in after the bell’s ring ceases to be, the quiet engulfs me in a way that makes me feel a little more alive than before. No laughter. Nothing, I smile.

This is great.

I appreciate this moment, and take it in—every day that I come here, I become a new version of myself. Hopefully, at some point, I’ll be a person who’ll be able to make a difference.

My feet shuffle farther inside the building. I’m greeted by an old, wooden table placed horizontally across the entrance. It’s propped up right next to another bookshelf, serving as a separation piece from the rest of the library.

The layout forms a small tunnel filled with books—one crafted from shelves alone: this, by far, is my favorite part about this building. As I run my hands along a diverse array of worn out copies, the light above my head flickers like a dying sun. A fly desperately flings itself towards the bulb, adding noise—a crackle—to the once empty silence.

I take out a book titled ‘Time, and Other Theories’.

Perhaps, this one will finally have the answers I seek.

I’ve been here quite often, ever since the incident. Books are a good resource, even if stuck in a time loop, they’ll retain whatever information they already contained.

It’s taken years, but I believe I’m finally halfway through this library’s collection. Little knowledge regarding our town’s situation was made public.

I’ve only managed to get my hands on minute details—though, important ones nevertheless: It seems as though this phenomenon only happened in three other towns and hasn’t affected the entire world, yet.

Each moment trapped in time consists of twenty-four seconds on average.

Once in the loop, people cease to age, becoming unbreakable sculptures, living landmarks, engraved in their initial locations.

I once stumbled upon an article dated from around two hundred years ago, it spoke of a man who was sighted fishing in the same spot every day. As time went on, passersby slowly came to realize that the entirety of the man’s being was the same. He never changed, never moved, never aged. However, without any updates to this data, I’ve yet to confirm if Anomalies ever expire. It’s possible, he might be long gone by now.

But during his prime, that man began to attract tourists. Many were intrigued by his presence alone. Under no circumstances would he answer if spoken to. His hair would not grow, his cap was unmovable.

Allegedly, the whole situation was passed for a hoax, which is why we’d barely heard of it—a wax figure, they called him.

Yet, in the interviews I managed to find from an old newspaper, some natives from his town argued they caught the supposed statue breathing and blinking multiple times.

Unfortunately, asking for answers only led to them being branded as crazy, with most sent to an asylum, whilst others went into hiding.

That story was never brought up again: until a few years ago, when it started happening here and affected more than a single person this time—one woman remembered him.

I’m glad I caught wind of such gossip in time. Or else, I may have never started my research here. This man was wedged between two pages amid a series of archives… I’m sure there must be others like him. Perhaps, more detailed cases, too.

I must keep looking, I think, as I stride over to another bookshelf, I check if there is anything else I could possibly read today, before the day resets.

That’s right… I must keep searching—for a way out.

I gulp. Some say that because my parents have already become Anomalies, maybe it's a sign that I will be next. But I can't give up just yet. I’d rather fall victim to the same spell whilst trying to figure out the root of this mystery, rather than wait around for my turn to arrive.

Nobody’s searching for a way out anymore. As far as I can tell, they’ve all given up. We are too small, and afraid of the unknown, yet the idea of it all bothers me, like an itch I cannot scratch. I want to know everything about Anomalies and how to free my loved ones.

I swear, I’ll find a way.

“One day, I’ll run as far as I can from this place,” I mutter, as I hold the book I’d been keeping, close to my chest. “One day, I’ll free everyone from those horrid time loops.”

Leaving the miniature passage, I walk over to the farthest corner of the library, where wooden, crooked stairs stand tall despite their old age. The paling steps creak under my shoes. I recall questioning if they would hold out when I initially came here. Now, it is calming to hear the wood whisper to the room.

The library’s ceiling is that of an attic’s—as uneven as its stairs. As I make it to the mezzanine adorning the first floor, the modest windows which cover the walls have let in a gentle light that peers into the room with ease.

I turn to face the outside world, and catch a glimpse of the ocean past dusty, pale glass covered in cobwebs that I would have cleaned, if they weren’t prone to being reset each day.

The ocean’s waves are slow. And the sky, a misty, dim azure.

It is still snowing, when I finally turn my back on the scenery that has haunted my worst nightmares.

I stride past various asymmetrical bookshelves. The smell of dust tickles my nostrils. I sniffle, then rub my nose to repress a sneeze. Upon arriving at my destination—a much more modest table that I’ve a tendency to use for research—something is different. Perhaps, wrong.

For the first time since my daily visits at the library started, I meet another soul.

Across the light film of dust that cover’s the table’s mahogany wood, books are sprawled out all over the place. And its matching chair? Occupied. By a young man who could be around my age, or much older, depending on when he first arrived here.

He’s fast asleep. As his chest heaves up and down, my eyes trail along his back, that’s covered by a thick, bomber jacket.

I frown. That’s odd.

Has he been here all night?

A minute passes.

Once the young man’s presence becomes a sure fact, my awareness shifts to the bleak emptiness of the library once more—I wonder, what has brought him here. And if he is on my side.

Being alone with a time-looped librarian had made this place feel like my own domain. However, with another soul added to the mix, this bubble has burst. This place that had once seemed so safe, like a haven, a shelter for my mind, is now nothing more than another building. Something foreign to explore all over again.

I lean my weight against my better leg, the floorboards creak.

In this moment, my heart holds four fears.

Is he also stuck in time, forever?

Will I have to pass not one Anomaly, but two, whenever coming here from now on?

Had the others been right to doubt this place?

And—should I be concerned for my own safety?

I kneel on the opposite end of the young man’s figure. Quietly, I place the red, leatherbound book I’d chosen down against the table; it looks mediocre next to the pile he created.

Should I wake him? I wonder.

I observe his long eyelashes. His ash blond hair that falls across the light freckles ingrained deep into his nose.

His smile, which leaves dimples in his cheeks, makes me think he must be having a pleasant dream. For the first time in my life, I find myself doubting whether someone is Anomaly or statue.

I reach out, and slowly approach his head with my palm. As my pulse travels up my ears, I hold in a breath. I truly hope he isn’t an Anomaly. But before I have a chance to touch him, the young man flinches.

His eyes flutter open. Blue, I note.

Like freedom.

A sky without snow.

He examines me in silence. A rather blank look overtakes his features, followed by a huff as the tension in his shoulders start to fade. I suppose, he likely didn't expect someone else to be visiting either, especially at this hour of the day.

“Sorry,” I clear my throat. “I thought you might’ve been…” I’m unsure if finishing my phrase would be appropriate. Part of me fears he may have somehow ended up in this part of town by pure coincidence, and that he isn’t aware yet, of what is going on here.

That would explain why he dared wander into this library, even more so sleep here.

“You thought I might be frozen?” the way he speaks the question sounds more like he’s testing out whether he still has a voice; I wonder, if he is like me. If he hasn’t spoken in weeks, because there isn’t anyone around anymore to talk to.

I shrug in response. “Possibly, yes.” I avert my gaze, as I tug on the sleeves of my sweater, I part my lips again. “Glad you aren’t.”

He stares at me for a few seconds, silent. “You’re researching, too? Is this your first time here?” his tone has shifted into something quite eager now. As his gaze brightens, I remember the world I lived in before, where the sun once kissed the sea.

“Researching…” I raise a brow at him. “Anomalies, you mean?” I ask, whilst I take out a chair that had been pinned to the side of the wall; a spider runs down from its right leg, then goes into hiding beneath the floorboards not long after.

“Yes,” the young man nods, and I take a seat before him. “Has it been happening around you, too?”

His words cause me to frown. Is he merely trying to be polite? It’s obvious that it has been.

The idea that this entire interaction could be a trap briefly passes through my mind, however, I pay it no heed.

Even if I wanted to, it’s not like I could escape now, anyway. It’s too late.

I might as well have this conversation.

“It has,” I nod. “And to more than just a few people, unfortunately.”

The young man seems startled again, for he stares at me as if I am a ghost.

More questions flood my mind. I wonder how many years it’s been since I’ve seen someone else in this building who isn’t an Anomaly.

My attention drifts back to the librarian, frozen in time behind a decaying counter. I lean back to peek at her from the mezzanine. A worn expression of dread is painted all over her features. Her eyes are not what they once were, shrouded with the color of rust. And her light brown hair—usually tucked away in a neat bun—is sticking out in various different places, as her hands begin to tremble. She lets out a whimper, then stares down at her cellphone, held tightly between her nimble fingers.

When it seems like she may be about to drop the device, the moment resets. And she makes that face again—the one where it seems as though she is trying to hold back her tears. A face, that will be quick to decompose into distress, once more seconds come to pass.

No one knows the story behind what happened on the day she was trapped. We can only assume she received a rather bitter text, only to be stuck inside a memory she would rather escape. I feel guilty for thinking this, but… at least my parents were frozen in a peaceful moment.

I’d hate for them to end up like her.

“Is anyone else looking into this?” the stranger’s question takes me out of my thoughts.

I clear my throat. My heels shift against the floorboards as my head hangs low, I join my fists together across my knees in a silent prayer. “I doubt it,” I mutter. “I think they’ve chosen to bury the evidence.” A laugh escapes me. “They can silence us all they want, but—” I motion to the world around him and I. “It’s impossible for anyone to get rid of an Anomaly, as you may know.”

The young man shows me another nod. “I see.” He tilts his head to get a better look at me. “What about you?” he asks. “Have you discovered anything of value?”

I purse my lips together and cross my arms. “Only vague snippets of information from previous cases, I’m afraid.” The rest is just gossip.

He seems disappointed. I don’t blame him. I have a feeling he was expecting a big revelation; one that I unfortunately cannot give him.

“Gosh,” the young man brings a hand up to his head, he pushes aside the bangs that had been covering his eyes. “I wonder if this will ever end,” he lowers his voice to a whisper. “This is such a tedious subject to gain knowledge on. It’s like no matter how much I search, there’s only so little anyone can find.”

Wait a minute. I squint. “Is this not your first time here?” I swear, I’ve never seen his face before.

He huffs. He averts his gaze from mine. “At this particular library, yes, it is. At other establishments… well,” he lets out a miserable scoff. “Let’s just say I’ve gone through a library or two with the help of my friends.”

“Oh.” I purse my lips, as I observes his long, bony fingers tapping against the table. Outside, the snow continues to fall. “Are your friends nearby?”

“Gone.” He shakes his head, and doesn’t even bother looking me in the eye. His gaze is fixated on nothing—or, rather, he is likely someplace else in his mind. In the memory of losing his loved ones, perhaps, that I now regret bringing up.

“Sorry,” I whisper. “Let’s find a way to get them back.” A few seconds pass, before I find the courage to shuffle closer to where he is seated. I hold out my hand for him to shake. “Should we join forces? I could sure use some help around here,” I tell him, with the warmest smile I can muster.

He shakes my hand without saying another word on his losses. His next question is quite random; though, not necessarily unexpected. “Is it always this cold here?”