I took a deep, calming breath and looked up at the sky. The sun was shining so brightly; it brought tears to my eyes. I smoothed out my shirt and finger combed my hair, then picked up my briefcase and jogged up the street for the third time.

Memories of the next hour bubbled up to the surface as I got lost in the motions of jogging.

Did I die last time? I did, didn't I? I got run over.

It didn't hurt as much as I thought it would. It hurt like hell, of course, but it was also distant, fading away quickly after the initial burst of pain.

The boy also got run over. I saw it clearly this time.

Bile rose to my throat as I recalled the sensation of warm blood on my face. I could still see the yellow blur mowing the boy right in front of my eyes, hear the roar of the bus, feel the wind of its passing, and taste the iron on my tongue. I swallowed the urge to vomit and forced the memory away.

I still didn’t know what was happening to me. Why time kept repeating. But I didn’t care, I was relieved. If there was a third time, there would be a fourth, a fifth, and so on. I’d rather not think too hard about something out of my control.

This time for sure. This time I will save the boy. I already knew which balloon the child was after, so it should be quick.

I was half-baked last time. My mom had always told me that trying to catch two rabbits at once will result in catching none. I haven’t thought about her or dad in a while now. Things were just so hectic and busy.

I shook my head to clear my thoughts. Focus.

This time I will prevent the boy’s death, no matter how long it would take. I shouldn't have allowed him to continue jumping last time. I shouldn’t have left him alone in the first place.

What was I thinking, trying to stop the cars? None of them slowed down despite my efforts. It was useless to hope for help from them. With their windows tinted, they seemed inhuman. As if there was no one driving inside. They clearly have no compunction about running people over to reach their destination.

A flush of anger rose in me. What was so important that you won’t even slow down to help a child?

Even the school bus was the same. All the drivers had gone insane and to step on the street meant death. I would not be making that mistake again.

In the near distance, I saw the boy gawking at the balloons above him. A smile made its way to my lips.

I skidded to a stop beside him. "Do you need some help, kid? You wanted the yellow one, right?"

The boy looked at me and tilted his head.

Without another word, I set my briefcase on the sidewalk and jumped up to grab the yellow balloon.

I offered it to the boy with a smile. "Here. Go on then, take it."

The boy looked at the balloon, then back at me.

My heart sank. Oh, come on. Was this not the one? Which one is it then?

With a resigned huff, I transferred the balloon to my left hand, then leaped up and grabbed another balloon. I offered it to the boy with hopeful eyes. When he didn’t take it, I hid my disappointment, then jumped up for the next balloon.

By the time I grabbed the last balloon, I was panting in exhaustion. Several cars had passed by on the street to our right. The black sports car and the school bus were noticeably absent.

I offered the last balloon to the boy, wishing he'd just take it and stop jumping around.

The boy looked at the proffered balloon, then the other ones in my other hand. His lips trembled and tears pooled in the corners of his eyes as he looked into my eyes with a heartbroken expression.

What? No, really, what? Why are you making that face? I'm giving it to you. Here.

I extended both arms again, offering all the balloons to the boy.

The boy cried silently, tears streaming down his eyes. Even now, he was entirely silent.

I don't get it. Did I do something wrong? Why are you looking at me like I just killed your pet dog?

Still eerily silent, the boy wiped the tears from his face and ran up the street.

I froze and watched the boy run away, both hands still outstretched.

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If you didn’t want them, why did you go after them so stubbornly?

I sighed, then released all the balloons, watching as they floated away into the sky. It reminded me of the last thing I saw before I regressed.

At least I managed to prevent the boy from getting run over this time.

It left an unpleasant taste in my mouth to have spent all that time and effort just to make the boy cry, but it was better than having nightmares. I have enough of them as it is.

No, don’t view it like that. I spent all that time and effort to prevent the boy’s death.

I stretched and sighed in satisfaction, then glanced at my wrist—it was already 11:30. I started jogging up the street once more. It was starting to feel familiar. I had learned the hard way to set a manageable pace, to regulate my breathing, to position my feet properly.

To a professional athlete, I imagine it would still look awkward as hell, but I felt more confident with jogging now. When I first started two repetitions ago…two hours? Two runs? Yes, when I started two runs ago on my very first run, jogging had felt like torture. It was awkward and tiring. It was still tiring now, but at least it wasn’t as awkward.

I wonder if this hour would just keep repeating itself. Would I keep improving as I repeat this hour? It was all so surreal and unbelievable. Was there a limit to it? What caused it in the first place? All perfectly good questions with no answers. I decided to just take it all in stride.

Whatever was happening, it was a good thing. The boy would’ve died without my help. I would never have made it on time for the presentation on the first run. I knew that for a fact now. I still remember it vividly, that feeling of despair and desperation as I drowned in the sea of humans. The second run was no better. I didn't even make it until the end of the hour, getting run over and dying instead.

I have died once already.

Now that was unbelievable. Does this mean I can't die? Time would just rewind back to 11:00?

Lost in my musing, I had arrived at the construction site before I knew it. The building had turned to rubble by this point, painting a bleak picture backdropped by the overcast sky.

I recalled hearing a scream as the building was demolished in the first run, but perhaps that was the true hallucination. I wasn’t really in my right mind back then. An urge to check the rubble and confirm it rose in me, but I didn't have the time to spare, so I held it in check. Even if someone was buried under all that rubble, it was too late for me to help them anyway.

Next time. I told myself. How quickly I took the fact that there was a next time for granted.

Weaving past the arguing crowd, I threw a brief glance at the scowling foreman. He was smoking a cigarette indifferently while surrounded by the crowd. I doubt he could even hear the crowd over the earmuffs he was wearing. I choked back a laugh and paid more attention to where I was going, deterred by the thought of tumbling down again.

I broke through the crowd and jogged downhill, feeling the wind in my hair. The smile on my lips got a little wider. It wasn't a bad day after all. It could've gone worse.

I slowed down just a little when I crossed the invisible barrier into the rainy section of the street. The abrupt weather changes still boggled my mind. But after seeing time rewind, I've found that my tolerance for weird happenings had increased significantly.

Once I reached the end of the street, I turned to the left path instead of the right. I could probably force my way through the crowd faster this time, but I doubt I’ll do it fast enough to make it to the tower before noon. Besides, I balked at the thought of diving back into that hot, stinking mess. It had been such a good run; I wanted to end it on a good note.

The left path would have to do this time. I wanted to see if there was another way to cross the river. If there wasn’t, then there was always next time.

It suddenly occurred to me how relaxed I was at this moment. If it was the first run, I would’ve been a panicked, sweaty mess at this point. I haven’t even checked the time recently. I did so now—it was 11:45. I smiled and jogged my way further down the left path.

The plume of black smoke was looking more and more concerning. It had gotten so thick that I couldn’t see the houses across the street clearly now. The air was filled with smoke, and it was getting harder to breathe.

Can I make it through? Should I turn back after all?

I decided to go as far as I could. No harm in trying, after all. The crackle of fire and groan of burning wood resounded all around me. It was getting uncomfortably warm.

I coughed and slowed as the black smoke choked my lungs. Some of the smoke got to my eyes and caused it to tear up. It reminded me of that time when I carelessly rubbed my eyes while cutting chili.

Fuck, it burns. Should I turn around after all? Let's go a bit further. Maybe I can still make it through.

I pushed on, but soon found the way blocked by burning wooden debris. The heat was unbearable now. Through eyes blurred by tears, I tried to chart a safe course, but it was in vain.

Ah, it seems this path is a bust. I'll have to use the right path next time, then. Or maybe arrive faster.

I turned around and ran back. But before long, I found my way back blocked by flaming debris. The houses to my right were unrecognizable. Parts of their walls had crumbled down and covered most of the sidewalk. It was as if the houses had vomited their insides to the street and transformed into blackened, skeletal versions of themselves. I slowed to a crawl and crouched low, trying to avoid the smoke. My head started spinning and I couldn't stop coughing.

Ah crap. I might've... underestimated this.

Left with no other choice, I stepped onto the street, trying to find a path through the debris. Flaming chassis of abandoned cars laid scattered everywhere, empty of any passengers. A dark sense of vindication welled up within me. The cars couldn’t outrun everything after all.

As I passed by one such wreckage, it exploded.

The impact threw me flying, and steel shrapnel dug at my skin with white hot claws. I landed heavily, incoherent with pain.

AARRGGHHHH! It hurts! What the hell! It hurts so much! Oh god it burns!

The pain was indescribable. It was worse than tumbling down the hill, worse than getting hit by a car, worse than watching a child got run over in front of you. Worse than all of those combined.

A stinging, searing sensation spread through my skin. My nerves felt like they’ve been scrubbed raw then soaked in acid.

It was hell.

Just as I felt my mind unravel from pain, I lost consciousness and darkness claimed me.

A moment of weightlessness that stretched for an eternity, then I was falling forward. I didn't have the capacity to catch myself this time, falling flat on my face. The pain was miniscule compared to what I had just been through. My mind reeled from the phantom burning sensation still seared in my mind. Like being encased in molten steel.

I laid motionless on the sidewalk, no different from a corpse.

Fuck my life.