Lost Time 

Al woke up somewhere else. 

He wasn't in his apartment. 

He was sitting at a booth in a 24-hour diner. A cup of coffee—half-drunk—sat in front of him. The smell of fried food lingered in the air. 

His heart hammered. 

He didn't remember coming here. 

Didn't remember leaving his apartment. 

His hands shook as he reached for his phone. 3:47 AM. 

The last thing he remembered was… what? The stranger at his door? The missing time? The journal? 

His skin prickled. Something wasn't right. 

Then—he noticed the waitress. 

She stood near the counter, not moving, not taking orders. 

Just staring at him. 

Al's stomach twisted. He looked away, focusing on the coffee. Maybe she just thought he was weird. Maybe he had been sitting here for hours, zoning out. 

But then— 

From the corner of his eye— 

She tilted her head. 

Too far. Like something inside her had come loose. 

A whisper in his ear—his own voice. 

"You've been here before." 

Al's breath caught. 

The Shadow's laughter curled around his thoughts. 

"And you weren't alone." 

He turned his head—too fast. The diner blurred for a moment. When his vision sharpened again— 

The waitress was closer. 

Right at his booth. 

Her eyes were dark, wide. 

"You shouldn't be here," she whispered. 

Al's pulse spiked. "What?" 

She glanced around, almost afraid. Then—she slid something across the table. 

A napkin. Scribbled writing. 

Al's own handwriting. 

"Get out before you wake up." 

The Shadow exhaled in amusement. 

"Well, that's new." 

Al shoved away from the booth, his breath coming too fast. He turned, rushing for the exit. 

The door felt miles away. 

The moment he shoved it open and stumbled into the night air—everything tilted. 

And then— 

Darkness.