Maybe that’s why I’m reliving the same day over and over again. Even the universe is tired of my awkwardness and inability to have a normal interaction with another human being.

Say something! Anxiety spikes.

“Um. Well.” I shove aside the straw and finish the drink in two long gulps. “Thanks for the drink. I have to go.” I slip off the chair on the opposite side.

“Wait, Jane!” he calls.

But I . . . I can’t do it. I weave around people, getting lost in the growing crowd, grateful for once to be surrounded by others so he can’t easily find me.

Outside, I take deep gulps of the chilly night air, the cool breeze on my hot face a relief. I hurry down the sidewalk, arms wrapped around my middle like they might keep me from jumping out of my own skin.

Why can’t I do this? Why can’t I be normal? What is wrong with me? Anger bubbles inside, threatening to explode.

I’m so sick of myself.

Routine. Control. Order. Those are the invisible clothes I wear every day. The ones that keep me from panicking, overanalyzing, or freaking out on a constant basis. Except it doesn’t work. It never works. It’s still there, like a tiger, waiting to jump out and attack at the worst possible moments.

You’d think reliving the same day over and over, having some kind of routine, would be a soothing occurrence for someone like me. I mean, I know what to expect. And yet, this day. This day . . . it’s the worst. Why this day of all the days the universe could have stuck me in?

My footsteps quicken, slapping against the pavement.

I have no legitimate reason to panic about a simple conversation with someone I’ve known and worked with for months. Someone who will remember nothing of it tomorrow. And yet, it’s like I can tell my brain those words over and over and it just won’t believe it.

I hate my brain.

I make my way back across the bay to Emeryville. Somehow, I find myself in front of the Druid’s Stone.

It’s after ten, but light streams out of the windows, shining glowing squares onto the cracked sidewalk. And when I push on the door, it opens with ease.

“Hello?”

An illuminated lamp casts shadows over the space. The cuckoo clock ticks in the corner.

I sigh out a breath and shut my eyes. “What am I doing?”

When I open my eyes, she’s standing right in front of me, only a foot away. “Holy mother of tacos!” I press a hand to my pounding heart. “You scared the crap out of me.”

She’s as still and immobile as a mannequin, wearing the Wonder Woman shirt and ripped jeans she had on the last time I was here.

Well, duh, it was the same day.