Elara’s apartment was awash in the blue glow of her computer as she combed through her labyrinthine collection of scripts. She was on the hunt for her favorite—the one about the “Eye of the….” But her fingers halted over the keyboard when a cryptic file appeared on her desktop: 17.doc. She frowned, lips pursed. She had no memory of creating such a file. She quietly remarked in astonishment, her interest heightened as she experienced a subtle sensation along her spine.

Her investigation was abruptly interrupted by a sharp knock. At the door was a Scout, her uniform neat, her smile bright. “Would you like to buy some cookies?” she chirped. The mundane world rushed back. Elara grinned. “Oh my God, yes! Let me buy all of them—just kidding. I’ll take ten boxes of Caramel Coco’s, ten of the shortbread, and five thin mints.” With practiced ease, the Scout handed over the boxes, the exchange feeling oddly ceremonial, as if the cookies themselves contained some latent magic.

Arms full, Elara caught a glimpse of her neighbor, Dr. Milo Cartwright, scurrying by. She rarely interacted with him, though they’d lived side by side for four years. Guilt pricked her. “Howdy, neighbor!” she called, waving awkwardly. Milo’s eyes widened in surprise, then softened as she approached.

“Hey, how are you? It’s odd, we’ve lived next door for years and barely know each other. Want to get drinks sometime?” Elara asked, mustering confidence.

Milo smiled, a hint of relief in his expression. “Yeah, that sounds good. I could use a night out with everything that’s been happening lately.”

“The old pool hall? It’s just down the block.”

“Perfect. Eight o’clock?”

“Eight it is.”

Later, with the cookies stashed away and social bridges tentatively built, Elara returned to her desk, drawn back to the enigma of 17.doc. But now, more files had appeared—ghostly digital footprints scattered through her folders, each one labeled with a new number. Her heartbeat quickened. She opened one and read:

She saw her neighbor again, hoping she would catch him before he slipped away. She glared at him; their friendship had frayed into bickering, and the bond dissolved.

Chills cascaded down Elara’s arms. The story echoed her own life but twisted—events reversed, names intact but destinies swapped. It was as if parallel worlds were bleeding into her reality; each file was a window into an alternate timeline.

That night, she met Milo at the pool hall, shadows flickering beneath the neon lights. As he began recounting his recent troubles, Elara interrupted, thrusting her phone into his hands. “Wait! Look at this. Read these files!”

Milo scanned the documents, his brow furrowing. “Some of these… they’re familiar. But it’s like everything’s… all wrong. That’s weird.”

“Exactly! The first file mirrored the cookie-buying scene almost perfectly—but I was the Scout, and you were the one buying,” Elara explained, her voice trembling with excitement and fear.

“How many of these do you have?” Milo asked. “Send them to me—I want to see how far back they go.”

Elara nodded, emailing every file, feeling like a digital archaeologist unearthing ancient secrets. Milo vanished into the night, files in hand, leaving Elara alone with her whirring computer and racing thoughts.

Hours later, her phone blazed to life. Milo’s voice was frantic with discovery. “I’ve figured it out!”

Elara recoiled at his volume. “Ow!”

“Sorry,” Milo said quickly. “But listen. All the file timestamps start the day my grandfather died, and I inherited his old clock. That clock makes weird noises sometimes—like it’s alive. And every time it chimes as I walk through the door, something feels… off. Could the files and the clock be connected?”

Elara’s breath caught. “Unplug the clock! Unplug it and see what happens to the files—and to reality itself!”

To be continued next Wednesday….