[ WP ] You were caught in a unending chain of time relapses , and you live the same day over and over again with no consequences . After a few thousand cycles , the chain ends and you must live with what you did .


 Cam hit the alarm button seconds before the radio station blared out `` Umbrella'' by Rihanna. The mornings were the worst part for Cam, the loneliness, and repetition. His mother used to say a morning dictated the rest of your day, he'd thought it was the dumbest mantra any parent had passed onto their child; when you added that to his feminine curly eyelashes, jet black hair just to a military safe level and his stick figure body shape- it made her out to be quite a bad parent. Maybe that was why he was stuck in this loop, every day starting out the same and there were n't consequences for anything he did once he went to sleep. If it were n't the reason, the importance of mornings was the only lesson he'd learned from his thousands of days being the same problem. 
 
 He sat up, threw the covers off the bed entirely, and began dancing around naked as a newborn. He cha-cha'ed over to the bathroom in the tiny hotel room from the seventies and brushed his teeth. The bathroom was the most modern aspect of the room with a tile counter and a sink that was fake brass colored. The room outside was covered in a pink paisley wall paper and the bed frame was one of those obnoxious wavy metal things with bars like a jail cell. He spat. `` Today... what do I want to do today...'' Cam said to himself as he dabbed the washcloth onto his face. `` Virginia... she's definitely on the list. Mary too, I think it's lunch time that she gets so very wonderfully lonely- then I'll steal a glance at the yoga studio. I have n't been with Betty for a few weeks, and that instructor called me fat weeks ago- he deserves some revenge. And I'll end in the library, just like usual.'' Cam walked out of the bathroom and dressed in the same outfit he'd been wearing for the last three thousand days. It was a cheap button down and khakis. The shirt had pinstripe blue lines and the cufflinks matched the tie clip he'd long since stopped wearing. `` Alright and for the library, I'm reading Great Expectation, page 58, yesterday was page 11 and my last day reading The Last of the Mohicans'' Cam straightened his collar and walked out of the room leaving the door wide open. 
 
 Cam strutted about town, calling a few people daring names while handing others the money out of his wallet. He loved that, the karmic exchange of a dollar for a smile. It was made better by the fact that he did n't actually pay the money, at least tomorrow it would be back. Cam walked down three blocks in the tiny town and took a left down a scenic neighborhood. 
 
 He never tired of the beauty, that much he had to admit. Even for the thousandth time, the trees lining the perfect American dream neighborhood meshed with the white picket fences and the gardens that surely rivaled Eden's brought a different kind of smile to his face. He was struck with wonder; Cam stepped over a tree root ripping itself free from the concrete without looking. He turned into a yard with a `` For Sale'' sign in the lot. He knocked, Victoria answered. She was a girl unaware of her beauty; she was n't the thinnest but her eyes were a striking blue like the scales of a healthy fish, and her skin was smoother than tanned leather roasting in the sun. Cam followed the script he'd developed, it worked every time; he talked about how sorry he was and told her there would be other fish in the sea and you just had to put yourself out there. He told her about his first lost love and how dearly he missed her- how she looked a bit like Victoria and he just wanted someone to hold him. They were in the bedroom in under a half hour, not his record but close. 
 
 Cam left her for coffee, something he'd never bring back, and carried on about his day. He watched the man at the Yoga Studio around two right when the coffee was done clearing him out and allowed him to leave it in the instructor's shoe. He watched from the outside window as the man, alarmed at what he stepped in, tried not to gain anyone's attention. Mary walked out of the door third, holding a green yoga mat. The olive green of the sweat covered mat was the same as her eyes, and that perfect red hair shouted out with excitement and lust. Her husband was never around, she did n't require such a script as Mary. As Cam walked her back to her home, arm in arm, his thoughts flashed back to his mother's words. The morning does make the man, and this morning he had been completely together for the first time- his schedule was working, he was clean, happy, he beat the alarm. It was a flawlessly executed day. 
 
 Mary was flawless back in her bedroom; yoga was a fantastic workout for both of them. He forgot all about Betty, she'd been a few places behind Mary at the yoga studio but she was n't quite as fun either. Betty drabbled on about a cat she owned once and how it was reincarnated into the one she had now, Mary at least had some ambition. She was working for the mayor, hoping to take his place during the next term. Cam would vote for her, but there was n't any worry about that. 
 
 The pair went out to dinner at the Italian place, he paid not that it mattered much, and left her back at her doorstep. Cam explained all the work he'd have to do this evening what with his role in the parade that started in three days, but he would see her again soon. If she was more observant or suspicious, she's mention that he was walking the wrong way to the school gym, but she was n't. Cam walked back to Victoria's house for one last romp of the evening. 
 
 Victoria cried when they were finished, something about the coffee. He did n't care, it would all wash back to the ocean in just a few hours anyway. Cam snuck out with the classic bathroom excuse and made for the library. A block away he realized his shirt was stained with some mystery goo, and he'd left his belt and undershirt at Victoria's. He shrugged, all would be fine tomorrow, especially if it went anything like today. 
 
 The library was darker than normal like a storm cloud was overhead blotting out the moon. Cam lined his elbow up with the window pane by the door handle and pulled back. The glass crumbled to the ground; Cam reached inside to twist the handle. He flicked on the lights in the fiction section and ran his hands down the alphabetical markings until he landed on section D. Dickens was the third shelf down on the left side. Cam held the book, they were the only things that kept him sane in a repetitious world like this. He read a book an evening most of the time, it was progressing in something, and it was all on him- no bookmarks, no dog ears no notes to himself- this was the only connection he had. 
 
 Cam did n't wake up before the alarm. He woke to the book falling out of his hand and closing tight on his finger. The sun was rising through the giant windows, blotting red through his field of vision. It was a new day, `` shit.''
