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The cursor blinked for the seventy-third time. Leo’s reflection stared back from the black screen of his laptop—hollow eyes, a five-o’clock shadow he was too tired to shave, and the faint blue glow of an insomnia that had lasted six years, two months, and eleven days.

But his name. Leo Warren. April 15th. 10:00 AM.

Time remaining: 7 hours, 13 minutes, 42 seconds.

But Leo wasn’t watching anymore.

And then he did something he hadn’t done in six years.

“You can spend the remaining time proving the clock wrong. Or you can spend it proving it right. The universe doesn’t care which.”