What was worse than her story disappearing from her computer? When Rachael went to the WebReader site, her story was gone from there, too. Not a trace of it--anywhere. Even her pen name seemed to have never existed. “This can’t be happening….” Rachael muttered, her stomach lurching.

Her hands were trembling so badly, Rachael could hardly get her phone to stay still long enough to push the few buttons to open her contacts. For some crazy reason, Lark’s phone number wasn’t where it should be. “What the hell?” she asked, not for the first time that day. Still fumbling, she searched the WebReader site, finally finding Lark’s number, not in a place where anyone who hadn’t signed a contract would be able to find it. Hopefully, this was all a misunderstanding, and Lark would be able to help her figure out what was going on. Was it possible they were angry that she hadn’t sent her latest chapter in on time? Rachael was sure she’d sent it, even though it wasn’t in her outbox now, but maybe it hadn’t gone through, so they’d taken the whole thing down as a way to show her they meant business. Of course, that didn’t explain how 2 million words of world building had disappeared from her hard drive...

Lark’s voice sounded in her ear, but it was her voicemail message. “Damn,” Rachael muttered as Scrappy rubbed up against her leg, meowing like she hadn’t eaten in six days. Rachael let out a huff and headed off to the kitchen to check her bowls as Lark gave instructions. Both the food and water bowls were completely full to the brim, so it wasn’t that. Scrappy darted off for the door, the same way she had the day before, scratching at it, like she needed to get out. Rachael shook her head and tried to concentrate on what she needed to say to Lark.

“Hey! This is Rachael Barnes. Look, something really crazy is going on. My whole story has disappeared from WebReader, and I’m not sure what’s happening. I hope you got the installment I sent to you yesterday. I thought I sent it on time, but… some weird shit’s been going on around here, and I’m starting to think I’m losing my mind.” She giggled a little bit, but only because it was true--laugh or cry. Even before she could hang up, she heard a beeping on the phone and pulled it away, hoping the sound of an incoming call was Lark. But it wasn’t. It was someone from Merek and Merek. Not worth clicking over for. “Okay, just give me a call back on this number when you get this, Lark. Thanks bunches.”

She hung up and looked at her phone. Merek and Merek was calling again, but she wasn’t about to answer. Scrappy wanted out the door so badly, Rachael wondered if there was a giant bird on the other side, or a rodent the likes of which one might find in Manhattan. “You’re not going outside,” she said to the cat as her phone went off again. It was Ebony’s cell.

Upset it wasn’t Lark but thinking she’d better take it anyway, Rachael answered, “Hey, what’s up?”

“What’s up? What’s up!” Ebony was in just as good a mood as she had been the day before. “What do you mean what’s up? It’s almost 9:00, Rach, and you’re not at work. Again! Where are you?”

Rachael’s stomach continued to roll into a ball, and for a moment, she felt panic flooding her bloodstream, as if she really was supposed to be at Merek and Merek and had just forgotten. Like--three hundred days in a row. “Eb, I don’t work there anymore.”

“Yeah, that’s what Frank’s gonna be saying if you don’t get your ass in this chair in the next thirty minutes. This is serious, Rach.” Through clenched teeth, she added, “He’s talking about firing you.”

Rachael swallowed hard. “Ebony, I quit. A long time ago. I haven’t worked at Merek for months. Almost a year.” Her eyes went to the spot on the table where she expected to see the vase, the one with the silk flowers her coworkers had given her, the one the earthquake had jarred.

The phone almost slipped out of Rachael's hand. The vase was gone.

Dropping to her knees, Rachael checked under the furniture, wondering if there was another tremor that had knocked the vase off the table completely. Ebony was practically screaming in her ear, asking her if she was crazy. There was nothing under the table except for some dust bunnies. Rachael interrupted her friend. “What--what date is it, Ebony?”

“What? What do you mean what date is it?”

“What’s the date?” Was she stuck in a horrible real-life version of the movie "Groundhog Day"?

“It’s May 23--a Tuesday--most people go to work on Tuesdays, Rach.”

Swallowing hard again, Rachael got up. “Is it… 2020?”

“Yes, it’s 2020. What the hell? Have you been smoking something, Rachael?”

“No, no, nothing like that.” Had she been drugged? Scrappy meowed like the devil was inside her, glaring at the door, and Rachael’s phone beeped. She was getting another call. Maybe it was the insane asylum confirming her appointment for pick up. “I’ve gotta go, Ebony.” Her voice was just a whisper, almost unrecognizable to even herself.

She could hear Ebony continuing to shout threats as she pulled the phone away and looked to see it was Lark calling her back. “Oh, thank God.” She clicked over just as she heard footsteps outside of her door. They were heavy. Male. Who in the world…? There was a knock on the door, and Scrappy practically tore her claws out scratching at wood. “Lark, thank you for calling me back….”

“Uh, hi. Is this… Rachael… Barnes?”

Lark sounded unsure of herself, as if she had no idea who Rachael was. The knocking stopped, but Rachael could tell whoever had knocked was still standing there, waiting for her to answer. He’d just have to wait. “Yes, this is Rachael. You know, your client? I write the 'Silverwood Academy' story--as Maven de Luna.”

“Uhm, ma'am, I’m sorry, but I don’t think I’ve ever heard of that story before. If you’d like to make a submission….”

Scrappy lost her mind, meowing harder, clawing away, the knocking started again, Lark continued to explain how one went about submitting to the website Rachael had been using to build her empire for years, and the world began to spin.

Her last nerve yanked to its breaking point, Rachael opened the door, yelling at Scrappy to stop, clutching her eyes closed for the briefest of seconds before she opened them to see familiar lavender orbs staring back at her. “Holy fuck….” The phone slipped out of her hand, spinning through the air toward the impossibly handsome, impossibly dashing, impossibly un-real man standing in her doorway.

He reached up and caught the phone before it flew past him, a crooked smile on his face, and Rachael knew for certain she had absolutely, positively lost her ever-loving mind.