Daddy's Little Secret
I said quietly, already feeling the wrongness pressing against my skull, “everyone here gets trapped repeating different slices of time. Forever.”
Zara’s face went pale. “Cool. Love that. Hate that. Mostly hate that.”
The highway trembled then jerked backward.
Not physically but temporally.
For half a second, the cars were pristine clean. and intact.
Then they snapped back to damaged and abandoned.
Then pristine again, then abandoned.
“Time is skipping,” Jamal said.
“No,” I said, heart racing as the pattern revealed itself. “It is overlapping.”
I walked slowly toward the center of the interchange where three elevated roads crossed.
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