Chapter 7: She Closed Up Shop

The afternoon went by quickly and smoothly as Charlotte began to close up shop.

She covered her baked goods with a piece of cloth and packed up some of the leftovers so that she'll have something to eat for dinner.

After cleaning, she locked up the shop and turned the open sign to close.

It was getting dark, the sun was barely seen from where she stood.

The orange light penetrated her eyes as she squinted to look far into the distance.

'What a beautiful sunset... how ironic' she lightly scoffed.

After gazing at the scene for a bit, she turned in the direction of her house and started to make her way back home.

Although it was dark, there were still people on the street.

Their attire was all the same, yet strangely they all complemented each other, like a trend among the people.

Some walked in groups, like a group of young girls loudly whispering about the latest gossip. While there were some who walked alone, like a few gentlemen, who lightly tapped their cane on the hard concrete stone.

There was also a young blond girl delicately walking through the streets, alone with her own thoughts.

The gazing orange light bounced off the building and the people walking in the street. Like a golden ray, gracing it with its presence, accentuating each and every nook and cranny of this strikingly quiet street.

In the midst of it, she strolled through the people, one with the atmosphere, carrying a purse and admiring the things around her.

She slowly tuned out the noise and went into her own reality.

Looking back at today, she reflected on what happened.

From the meeting with Mrs. Duchbury in the early morning, with her strange smile.

To the getting the information needed through a newspaper given by a cheerful young gentleman, Adam Levington.

To the detective, she met today, whom she needs to be wary of not exposing herself.

'Well, what do I have to hide? It's not like he will understand my situation. I mean, I don't understand it myself so...'

Charlotte chose to not even attempt to explain her situation considering she doesn't know what will happen. Besides, it is only going to create more confusion which is something she doesn't want.

She reached her home in a matter of minutes, and greeted the people around her, before turning herself in after a stressful day at work.

'Never in my life do I feel as stiff as today.'

The next day was like the first day. She got out of bed, and there was a sense of routine when she woke up. Although she wasn't used to it, at least she didn't freak out waking up in a different room.

Grabbing her purse, she walked out of the house and closed the door behind her, and locked it.

She walked out of the street and felt something odd about today.

There were still people walking on the street, but it looks a bit, well, different.

'You can't rely on everything on instinct though can you?' she decided. Thus, she put it aside and walked to the bakery.

On the way, she pondered about the encounter with Mrs. Duchbury, seeing as though she didn't see her this morning.

She opened the shop and walked inside the kitchen.

She lifted the cloth on the baking trays and found that her pastries look a bit odd.

It did rise overnight, but it wasn't shaped like how she shaped it the day before.

'Am I crazy or...'

She still went on with preparations and decided to think later.

A familiar face walked into the shop as she greeted, "Good morning Mr. Levington!"

He cheerfully smiled and greeted her back.

After choosing a couple of pastries, he walked up to the counter and started talking.

"Have you seen today's news in the paper?"

'Is this what they call deja vu?'

"I haven't grabbed myself a copy yet myself."

"Well then you can have mine!" he gave it to her.

"I might as well be your newsman. Come, give it a read! It looks like another murderer decided to strike."

The story was titled:

Murder in Whitechapel

The victim was a young blonde girl who died in the hospital.

Coincidently, she was also the girl Charlotte saw yesterday as she walked home.

However, the most notable thing was not the title, nor the fact the victim was someone she saw yesterday.

It was the date.

Today was Monday, April 9, 1888

Yesterday, or in this case, her yesterday was:

Saturday, April 7, 1888