Queen’s Court

Owen sat up in bed and looked at the bare, beige carpet in the center of his bedroom.

“YEEEEEESSS!” he cheered to himself and hopped out of bed. He ran to his kitchen to find the dining room chair he chopped up the previous night. He grew suspiciously hopeful that the day was resetting. He did not want to destroy anything irreplaceable; he chopped the legs off the chair and left the pile in his bedroom before going to sleep.

Two hours later Owen sat in his favorite coffee shop taking notes. He watched the locals while keeping an eye on social media for anything useful. After a while, he noticed a young woman with dark hair sneaking glances at him. She wore blue jeans and a simple black blouse. After an hour of watching him, without getting a drink, the young woman left.

I’ll talk to her tomorrow,” Owen decided and threw himself back into his research of the day. He stayed in the coffee shop until they closed, then headed home. He was content with his research and had some ideas of how to make the best of the day; if he got it again. He took the time to destroy the chair again before bed; he wanted to have an immediate indicator of whether his day reset.

The next morning Owen was glad it was the same morning; the dismantled chair was in one piece again in his kitchen. He spent extra time getting ready. He wanted to feel fresh and confident when he struck up a conversation with the stranger today.

He walked into the coffee shop and glanced around. Everyone was there again except the woman he was looking for.

Maybe she didn’t get here until later…,” Owen reasoned. He expected to chat her up a bit to get some information for the next time then move on to his plans. Without her there he sat down and decided to double check his info to kill time. Owen looked up every time the door opened but she did not walk in until after lunch. She wore a bright white blouse with navy blue slacks; not the blue jeans and black shirt from the previous day. “What the hell?” Owen realized she wasn’t just dressed differently; she seemed to be unaffected by time resetting. That day she came into the coffee shop hours after she left it the previous day.

Owen watched her accept her drink. Instead of the going to the same seat she sat in yesterday she walked straight to his table and sat down across from him.

“Hi!” she smiled. Her eyes sparkled with a glassy, bright pink color he’d never seen in someone’s eyes before.

“Hi,” Owen replied. “Uh.. can I help you?” He mentally kicked himself; he planned to be smoother when talking to her. She nodded.

“I think so. My name is Bijou,” she said and extended a hand across the table. Owen shook it.

“Owen,” he introduced himself.

“I need someone that can control time,” she said. She looked around the cafe with a suspicious eye then winked at Owen. He caught a glimpse of a tattoo on her eyelid but it disappeared again before he identified it. “Kind of like what you’ve been doing for a few days.”

“How did you know!?” Owen hissed across the table with a loud whisper. She winked again with the same eye, slower this time. Owen saw her tattoo clearly. The number 47 in black with a small golden crown atop the seven decorated her right eyelid.

“I’m a Queen. I recognize power when I see it.”

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