Lost in the Loop

## Lost in the Loop Alex James knew his life was far from thrilling. Each day was an echo of the last—wake up, struggle to find matching socks, grab a burnt toast, and then squeeze into a subway filled with human groans. His job at Centrix Corp was equally dull, where numbers seemed to dance mockingly on his computer screen. But Al knew how to roll with it. After all, no one ever wins against the outsized expectations of adulthood, right? On every Tuesday, Mr. Henderson would flatly praise Alex's limited ambition, and Jane, the bubbly HR, would offer him a latte. Except one unremarkable Monday, things shifted. **"Hey, I've given you Monday off,"** said Mr. Henderson with his trademark monotone. **"For what, sir? It wasn't my birthday, and it's not national nap day,"** Alex quipped, barely making eye contact. **"Didn't you get the memo?"** Whether he did or didn't, he was handed an unplanned respite. That night, as he scrolled an unfamiliar app on his phone, Alex's thumb accidentally triggered an option labeled **'Rewind.'** The app vanished before he even blinked. The next day, he awoke with Déjà vu that hit like a Wi-Fi disconnection. Everything felt...strangely similar. "**Hey, Al! I've given you Monday off,"** Mr. Henderson said nonchalantly the following Tuesday. **"Didn't you get the memo?"** Now, that...was odd. Curious, Alex began paying attention. From the misplaced report to Tim's loud grumbling about cauliflower's global impact—everything was in a rinse-repeat mode. Back home, as Alex flashbacked through his digital clutter, memories of the app began to solidify. The app had been real. By week's end, joining his dear mates for their Friday bar crawl had turned into an immersed replay he couldn't shut off. Convinced he'd lost the plot, Alex disdainfully plopped onto his couch. **"Hey, why go with the flow when you can rewrite the instructions?"** his best bro, Sam, had joked once. On Saturday, with a gutsy resolve, Alex applied the **'Rewind'** option once more. But this time, he spent the day differently. He volunteered at a local shelter and listened to Tim's philosophizing for five extra minutes, biting back a snicker. The following day, work was different. The disturbance had brewed novelty. Jane noticed. **"Looks like someone's had an epiphany!"** she chirped. Slowly, aspects of the replay altered. Each altered action looped a new iteration into being. By embracing this arcane power, he'd composed better versions of his looped stories. Still, fatigue wasn't easily shaken. Each increment bore its frustration. One morning, he tried rewinding right from the bounds of his futon, exhausting every possibility. Each repetition began to weigh like chains of inevitability. Howling winds outside mirrored his angst. **"Everyone spins their wheel, buddy,"** Sam advised. **"But we can always choose what kind of roads we ride."** Visibly moved, Alex's reflection gazed back through muted lighting and newfound realization. **'One more shot,'** he declared. At Centrix, Jane was glowing. There he found his reason: a genuine smile from someone else in the ordinary workplace monotony. Her day had likewise transformed somehow. **'No more rewinding to boost yourself, Al',** he thought. With courage fueled by Sam’s wisdom and Jane's comforting disposition, instead of faking it, Alex dared a step towards forward-moving paths. The monochromatic haze bounded into vibrant hues. Ironically, these days felt more unpredictable. Seizing moments untainted by familiarity was Alex's new ambition. No app needed.