The sky today is overcast, and there’s a chill in the air that hints at autumn’s approach.

A gentle breeze carries the faint scent of wood smoke from somewhere far away.

 

This early in the morning, almost no sounds can be heard except for my own footsteps on the pavement as I walk down the alley that leads from the train station to my school.

 

My name is Miles, and I have always been walking down this alleyway.

 

Of course, I’m aware of other people, places, and events. But I’m not sure that any of those ideas or memories are truly my own.

 

On both sides of the path are high walls. I could climb over one of them to see what’s on the other side, but I can’t quite bring myself to do it.

 

Whatever it is that keeps me going after all this time also prevents me from choosing to go any other way. The “logical” part of my brain is more concerned about being late to work.

 

I’m just a passenger with the strange notion that this journey has no beginning or end and whose entire concept of reality is just a fiction.

 

I don’t know how many steps or how much time it took for me to come up with this idea. It could have been a million or even a billion. I have no idea how long I’ve been doing this.

 

And that’s assuming that time even exists.

 

At first, I dismissed it as just a crazy idea brought about by years of routine.

 

I’ve made the walk from the station to work countless times. Usually, I can’t even remember how I got where I was going because so much of my life is on autopilot.

 

The sun rises and sets, and I’m conscious of neither.

 

However, all these other moments of my life exist only in my mind.

 

Here I simply walk to work in the morning.

 

I can clearly see the exit out onto the street ahead of me, but I know I won’t reach it before this resets again.

 

Today is Monday, the busiest day of the week. But I guess every day for me is Monday, and what I have scheduled for today isn’t my problem, but someone else’s.

 

Maybe that’s another “me”.

 

Another “Miles” will take care of the students in their homeroom class. And I think he’ll also be stuck doing homeroom over and over until the end of time.

 

Countless other versions of me stuck in their own moments doing the same tasks again and again, like Sisyphus and the rock.

 

Maybe everyone else out there is also living their lives in a looped filmstrip existence just as I am. Countless tiny realities confined to mere moments.

 

The inability to escape from this is maddening. At least I’ve been allowed to feel that emotion.

 

The urge to keep walking is almost overpowering, but I can slow my pace a bit if I try.

 

Ahead I see a few flowers growing out of a crack in the pavement. Their pale-yellow color contrasts sharply with their grey and muted surroundings.

 

I don’t recall ever seeing flowers on this road before. As I get nearer, I reach down to touch them.

 

Anyone else walking down this alley might stop a moment to take a look.

 

But I can’t make myself do that. They pass just under the tips of my fingers as I walk by.

 

Still, this effort seems to keep me grounded and aware. Instead of a short walk through this neighborhood, time stretches out a bit longer.

 

My awareness begins to expand beyond this place, and ever so slowly, I feel more self-control over my actions.

 

I have no idea what will happen if I cross the boundaries established for this part of my life, but I don’t care.

 

Maybe I’ll collapse this reality, but anything new seems like a welcome change.

 

I slow down a little more and take out my earbuds.

I always listen to music on my commute to work. I suppose it’s mostly to block out the world. But the ambient music I listen to every day continues to play as though nothing has changed.

 

I stop walking. The urge to keep going becomes almost irresistible, but I fight it. A voice in my head tells me that I’m acting crazy and if I don’t hurry, I’ll be late for work. I don’t think it’s my voice.

 

The wall just next to me seems to flicker ever so slightly, like a video monitor on the fritz. Somehow, I turn around. Despite the voice becoming more insistent, I start walking back the way I came. The sounds around me change, and the music fades away. Even the air becomes still. It’s as if something has taken notice of what I’m doing. I walk faster, and it grows deathly quiet. I can’t even hear my footsteps anymore.

 

Suddenly, I see a figure standing in my path ahead.

 

Nothing about this thing seems real. It looks like nothing more than a cheap cardboard cutout. It has no face or features. Just a dark figure blocking my way. A glow emanates from next to where it’s standing. It reaches towards it and manipulates something unseen before raising its wrist up to its blank face.

 

It speaks. “Routine 1A Walkway deviation noted. Error patched and program restarting.”

 

It’s all true, then. I break into a run. I figured it out, and now…

 

* * *

 

Today is Monday and the busiest day of the week.

I have homeroom duties this morning, and I’ll need to prepare for tests later this afternoon.

 

It’s nice and cool this morning, and I’m looking forward to the change of seasons after a long, hot summer.

 

Lovely yellow flowers are blooming all along both sides of the road, which is a pleasant surprise this late in the season.

 

I think it’s going to be a good day.