[https://i.postimg.cc/cCxYHKmN/The-Girl-who-could-taste-time.gif]

Nona woke up with the sound of her alarm. Today was Monday, 2oth December 2021. She rolled over and pulled herself out from under the blankets. Calmly as possible before sitting on her bed to pull on a new pair of socks. Since, again, one of her socks went missing. Then Nona, dressed in her jeans and a grey jumper, went into the kitchen and turned her coffee machine on.

Her days seemed all the same. She woke early, made and drank too much coffee, just an endless succession of cloned Mondays. Only to be interrupted by tormenting time events that could or could not belong to her timeline. It did not help her to keep up a peach routine.

She sat in her office room in front of her computer, turned it on, and as it played its sound effects, Nona heard Schrodinger's usual greetings:

'Good Morning, love of my life!' She didn't answer and set down her cup on her desk.

The Monday's morning light streaming through the window fell across like liquid gold, making the surfaces look almost luminous. It was one of those rare mornings when Nona felt at peace with her tedious day-to-day, until someone knocked at the door.

The knocking continued, but without any real sense of urgency, so after taking another sip of coffee, Nona left her chair and walked over to the entrance hall, where she opened the front door. There stood the postman with a package. 'Miss Nona Anna Perenna?'

'Yes, it's me.'

'This is for you, and I need a signature here.'; said the man handing her the package and the delivery form. 'Have a nice day!'; he said, turning away.

Nona closed the door.

'What is it?'; asked the cat.

'Must be the DNA tool kit I ordered.'; replied Nona opening the parcel. 'That was really quick.'

Inside was one box wrapped in brown paper and tied up with strings. It looked very ordinary, and Nona took it to the kitchen while the cat watched her curiously from the floor.

She untied the strings holding together the box. It had a small plastic bag containing two vials, one red, the other blue. 'Why are there two vials?'; she muttered.

Something struck her as odd. She checked the label of the vials, the blue one was dated 2023, and the other one, the red, was labelled for 2021. 'What does this mean?'; she mumbled again to herself..

At the bottom of the box was even a note which read:

Dear Mrs Schrodinger, I hope this will help your research. If they don't work, we can try again.

'What is this note?'; Nona spoke to herself, looking at her cat, who sat over the table. He blinked his big yellow eyes not having a clue neither.

'Do you know what the note means?'; asked the cat.

'No!'; exclaimed Nona. 'Why does it comes with someone else's name?'

'What name?'; asked Schrodinger, and Nona showed him the note.

Schrödinger shrugged. 'That doesn't matter now.'; he said.

Nona nodded: 'Maybe it is just a mistake.'

'You should go back to work,'; advised the cat. And so Nona did.

04:00 PM, Nona hung-up the last call of the day. She went to the kitchen and took the shirt from Qatar 2022 out of the freezer. She opened the frozen plastic bag and took the shirt out. Cut it into two small squares from the cloth and put each piece into the vials. She screwed both tight and dropped the vials back into the box.

'I will go out now!'; said Nona bravely. She wasn't used to going out much, and thinking that a time event could happen in the middle of the street and crowd made her anxious. But so far, the day had been calm, no sticky taste on her tongue.

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Schrodinger looked at her, worried. She placed the box inside her bag. She put her headphones blasting music. Put a mask and latex gloves on. 'See you later, Schrodinger.'; she said while closing the door behind her and locking it twice. Always twice.

And there she was, headed off towards town.

There weren't many people around because it was close to Christmas Eve and Covid-18 forced people to prefer the safety of their homes. Most shops were closed anyway. She passed several pubs along the way, and suddenly it happened. Again.

She could barely feel the goosebumps with the cold of December. Yet, her headset went silent as any sound from her surroundings. And finally, there it was, the taste. The taste of time, a mix of dust and sand, staining her mask with black powder.

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As she turned around, Nona saw a mob screaming the words: WOMAN! LIFE! FREEDOM!

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A woman was being dragged out of a pub, kicking and fighting. A crowd followed them, shouting slogans. Nona ran forward to see if she could hide. But it was no use. The police were already arresting people and shooting others. Chaos, screams, and fire reigned the streets.

Nona saw young girls shouting words she couldn't understand while they were cutting their hair. She saw another woman setting her scarf on fire while a bullet pierced her chest.

Nona wanted to run but knew it wouldn't do any good. Her hands began to tremble. Her breathing went out of control, and she started to sweat. Nona began to have a panic attack. 'Shit! Shit! Shit! Breath, just breathe, it's not real. It's not happening.'; she repeated to herself pinching the palm of her hand to calm the anxiety.

She found herself standing outside the local library. Its doors had been smashed open and broken glass littered the floor. Books lay scattered everywhere, some burning, others covered in blood. Nona looked around where to flee when suddenly a police officer grabbed her jacket. 'Let's get going!'; shouted the policeman. Another group of law enforcement came running. One of them pointed his gun at Nona.

'Freeze!'; screamed, pointing the weapon at her. She ran the opposite way of the mob as fast as she could until someone pushed her to an alleyway between the buildings.

Nona stopped breathing, startled, knowing she was trapped. The stranger embraced her tightly while brushing slowly her hair. He was hiding her face against his chest.

'Don't worry,'; he whispered in Nona's ear. 'They won't hurt you. They are not from this time.';

Nona tried to break free, but the grip tightened even further. 'Who are you?'; she tried to shout, while she was intoxicated by his scent of lemon pine and peppermint.

'Wrong question, love of my life.'; replied the tall man whose smell was so strangely familiar to her.

He let Nona go.

Nona gasped for air. She looked at the man, trying to refocus on her blurred vision. He was definitely tall, in a black suit with no tie, and she couldn't figure out his face hidden by huge sunglasses and a black cloth mask.

'My name...'; started Nona, but the masked man interrupted her.

'I know who you are, love of my life!'; he answered.

Suddenly everything became calm in the street, and the event ended. The quiet sound of the streets, the random roaming of two or three people and the traditional Christmas tune from one of the stores.

'It is safe now.'; he said, pulling down his mask, smirking, and showing defined canine teeth.

Nona breathed a sigh of relief. She rubbed her arms, feeling chilled despite wearing a thick jumper and jacket.

'Thank you, whoever you are.'; she told him.

But the stranger only grinned. He grabbed her arm and kissed her. His velvety lips embraced hers, tasting like orange and petals. Nona felt her cheeks burning, but the kiss didn't stop there. He moved closer, pressing his body against hers.

Nona didn't realised she stopped trying to push him away and didn't try to resist neither as if the kiss was a habit. A morning ritual of yesterday and an expectation of every day. His touch sent shivers through her spine, and butterflies floated from her throat to her stomach. Suddenly the world changed around them, becoming bright and warm, like springtime. And Nona felt dizzy.

When she finally recovered, she realized she was lying on her couch. Above dusk, sunlight poured through large windows and illuminated her living room. 'What the fuck happened?'

'So how was the world outside?'; asked Schrodinger.

'I went out?'

'Yes, you did.'

'I don't remember going to the post office.'; she mumbled, confused.

'You didn't come back with the package.'; assured the black cat adjusting himself to lay next to her.

'How strange. I think I meet someone.'

'You did?'

'He kissed me, I think.'

'Was he handsome?'

'Wait, maybe it...'

'Did you like the kiss?'; asked Schrodinger, insisting.

'It was just a dream.'; said Nona looking around the apartment. Everything was normal, even the clock on the wall.

[https://i.postimg.cc/6q9LFb4w/The-Girl-who-could-taste-time-2.gif]