The leap

When Greg opened his eyes, he felt drained. His head was heavy, his mouth dry. He fixed his gaze on the plain, white ceiling and contemplated getting up. He didn't know what time it was but from the looks of it, the sun was only starting to rise. Too early to start his day after spending the previous night with Connor. Whenever his friend stopped by for a movie night, he teased Greg until he was willing to keep up with Connor’s unhealthy drinking habits. Greg closed his eyes and tried to go back to sleep but the throbbing in his head made him groan. Nature was calling and he desperately needed a glass of water. So he threw off the covers, muscles heavy with sleep, and swung his legs over the edge. The floor was cold under his bare feet as he made his way to the bathroom, then the kitchen. One tall glass of water and an Aspirin later, he glanced at the digital clock on his oven. 21:36. The damn thing had never worked properly and Connor had probably changed the settings by accident when he had put the pizza in the oven last night. Greg yawned and went back to his bedroom where he plucked his watch from the nightstand. Half past seven. The clock on the oven was way off the mark then. He was too awake by now to go back to bed but too sleepy to properly start his day. He pulled on his bathrobe and rubbed his eyes.

Ready for his first coffee, he went back to the kitchen, turned the radio on and dug through the cupboard for a clean mug to put under the coffee machine. It was unnaturally dark in the kitchen, despite the sun coming up and he switched the countertop lights on. He normally got the natural light in the morning, but it must have been cloudy enough to keep the sun out of the kitchen. The machine finished his coffee and the sounds from the radio reached his ears. What a strange choice of music, Greg thought when the base of the electro re-mix filled the room. With heavy eyelids he sat down at his kitchen table, watching the street below, listening to the radio and sipping his coffee.

The streetlamps were still giving off a warm yellow glow, the asphalt looked damp and the street was mostly deserted. There were just a guy fishing empty bottles from the bin and a woman walking her dog. It must have been a cold morning, given it was the first day of March and he could see them breathing white clouds into the air. That alone made him shiver and he pulled his bathrobe tighter around his body. Just when he started to find that there was definitely something bothering him about the light this morning, the lady in the storm coat, her Terrier pulling the leash, caught his attention. She pulled a small black bag from the bin she had just passed, opened it and dumped the contents on the path. Greg was taken aback, blinked as he didn’t trust his tired eyes. Whatever the woman had dropped on the sidewalk, it was too far away for him to see.

Another two unnerving techno songs later, the presenter announced that this were numbers 23, 24 and 25 in the best club charts this week. The guy on the radio went on to talk about the station’s new game that they had kicked off earlier and ran through a recording. Greg was convinced it must have been some bad joke when the presenter informed the woman on the line that she was due to pay £350. It must have been staged or she wouldn’t have sounded so happy and relieved. Greg shook his head in disbelief, finished his coffee and got up. He had no nerve to listen to stupid games on the radio that made you lose money. He put his mug in the sink and picked up a leftover slice of pizza from the kitchen counter, thinking it would make a satisfactory breakfast.

Then, he headed to the bathroom to take a shower. Maybe that would awaken his spirits. The hot water washed away the frown on his face and with it the feeling of absurdity that had overshadowed his morning. When he got out of the shower, his short hair dripping with water, he took a good look at himself in the mirror. He looked tired and the stubble on his chin practically screamed that he needed a shave. He told himself he was too old to spend his nights drinking canned beer, then shook his head at himself. He was in his thirties, not his fifties, no need to be overly dramatic about a minor hangover Sunday.

A while later he emerged from the bathroom and threw on some fresh clothes, telling himself he was now ready to face the day. He considered a lazy day in bed, catching up on this show he only recently discovered and hadn’t had time to binge watch yet. When took in the state of his living room, he had a change of heart. The sun climbed across the window while Greg chucked the pizza boxes, empty soda and beer cans in a trash bag. He would definitely need to get the hoover out to get rid of all the crumbs everywhere but his sore head didn’t feel up for the task. Greg carried the binbags downstairs with little enthusiasm. Outside, he watched his neighbour rubbing his Audi with a dirty cloth. In Greg's opinion that made the car appear more dirty than clean, but he didn't comment. Instead, he lifted his hand to greet the man who acknowledged him with a nod. Greg was about to turn back, when one of the doors across the backyards opened. A middle-aged man emerged, empty handed, walked over to the nearest bin, lifted the lid and pulled out a full black bag. Greg could hear him whistle when he turned back and carried the garbage inside.

Greg turned around slowly, wondering what on earth the guy would need a full bag of rubbish for. Maybe he forgot to recycle, Greg thought when climbing the stairs. Or his wife is into arts and crafts. He had recently seen something on the internet about a woman turning plastic bottles into plant pots and similar items. He decided to let the thought go since he wouldn’t be able to discern the reason anyway.

Back in his flat, Greg finished tidying up the place to a standard he deemed acceptable. Then he slumped down on the couch, picked up the book Connor had lent him last night to give it a go. It wasn’t really his genre, some sort of sci-fi fantasy, but it was interesting enough, so he kicked back and let himself get immersed in the story. The vibration of his phone on the coffee table broke his concentration and he put the book aside, pages down so he wouldn't have to remember where he was at. 

“Hello”, he answered the phone automatically without checking the display for the caller ID.

“Gregory. You should have called me back.”

It was his mother. Greg faintly remembered calling her back yesterday but decided not to question it.

“Sorry, mum. I forgot.”

“Okay, dear. I just wanted to check if you need me to take anything to the store for you?”

“Mhhh?” Greg's attention was trailing off. She always asked him if he needed anything even though he was a grown man with a decently paying job who could do his own shopping.

“Your dad and I are going to town to sell a few things.” Something about that didn't quite sound right but the sensation was gone before he could put his finger on it.

“Okay. No, I'm good.”

“Okay, then. I'll talk to you soon.”

“Bye, mum.” She hung up and he slowly lowered his phone. This day made him feel out of place, as if he was missing something important. A ring at the door interrupted his thoughts. Not expecting anyone today, he went to the door and pressed the speaker button on the intercom.

“Hello?”, asked Greg.

“Hey, man. I'm here to pick up a parcel, can you buzz me in?”

“A parcel?”

“Yeah, it was delivered to you earlier. It's for your neighbours in 2/1.” Greg looked down at the side table in the entrance. There was the parcel, for Mr Ahmad, flat 2/1.

“Yeah, sure.” He buzzed the post man in, wondering since when the delivery guys bothered to come back to pick up parcels delivered to neighbours. Maybe Mr Ahmad had complained about not having received his next day delivery item on time. A moment later there was a knock on the door and Greg went to open it. Without saying anything, he handed over the parcel while the guy pressed some buttons on his scanning device, murmuring something about deleting the signature. Then he left and Greg closed the door, feeling confused and irritated. He checked his watch. Just after one in the afternoon.

Greg decided that it was time for lunch and he had just entered the kitchen when his phone rang for second time that day.

“You are not gonna believe this, mate.”

“What is it, Connor?”, Greg asked unnerved and not in the mood for one of his so called “unbelievable” stories.

“Right, so I just went to the shop to grab a meal deal.”

“Mhm.” Greg activated the speaker, opened the fridge and took out the microwavable lasagne he had saved for today.

“And all these people are queuing up to bring their stuff to the shops.” Greg paused, then closed the door of the fridge.

“What do you mean?”

“They were selling things to the supermarket, Greg.”

“That's odd”, Greg acknowledged while poking holes into the ready meal’s plastic film with a fork. He thought back to the short conversation with his mum earlier today.

“And they wouldn't sell me anything”, Connor added.

“Maybe it was a special promotion. Or one of these charity fundraisers.” Greg was starting to get a headache from trying to make sense of what the day was throwing at him. It was probably just the hangover, he told himself.

“No, Greg, I'm telling ya, something is going on. When I left the shop, these two girls were saying they needed to delete their Instagram pictures and status updates. And this mother was telling her child off for not undoing his homework.”

“You're making this shit up, aren't you?”, Greg made an exasperated noise and put the lasagne tray in the microwave.

“I'm not, mate. This is... It's like a glitch in the matrix!”

“Connor, we are not in one of your sci-fi movies.” Maybe they shouldn’t have watched the entire matrix trilogy in one go last night. It probably got Connor hyped.

“I know. Listen to me!”

“Are you high or still drunk?” Connor ignored the comment and continued with his train of thought.

“So you're telling me that nothing strange has happened to you today?”

“I'm not saying that”, Greg admitted carefully. Maybe there was a connection after all? No, that was silly.

“What if it's the government who-“

“Connor”, Greg interrupted, “We are not about to uncover a conspiracy.” Hearing this out loud made him feel safer, more at ease. It was probably just a few funny coincidences, nothing more.

“Fine”, his friend snarled. “But I'm not gonna let this go that easily.” Seemingly contradicting himself, Connor hung up. Maybe he meant he was going to re-watch all science fiction movies in existence to gather evidence on whatever theory he had devised. Greg shook his head and took the lasagne out of the microwave.

The rest of the day went by quickly after lunch and he spent the majority of it on the couch, watching a reverse marathon of f.r.i.e.n.d.s. episodes from best to worst, while replying to some emails on his phone. He expected Connor to call back sooner or later but his phone remained silent for the whole afternoon. When his watch told him it was approaching half past five, he dragged himself off the couch. He really needed to get his act together and get some life admin done. The meter readings weren’t going to take themselves and he should probably check if he had enough money in his account for the rent to come out.

The sun was already beginning to set and cast long shadows in his flat. To show good will, he went to the small room that served more as a storage cupboard than the home office it was intended to be. He sat at the cramped desk and stared at the bills he yet had to pay. Dreading the thought of having to go back to work the next day, to spend all day in a stuffy office, he found himself unfocused. His gaze wandered from the documents in from of him out the window and into the backyard. Another neighbour emerged, put what looked like a rolled-up newspaper on the doormat and went back inside. Curious, Greg eyed the entrance, wondering what his neighbour was up to. A few minutes later, a guy on a bike cycled by, got off his bike, picked up the newspaper climbed back onto his bike and disappeared around the corner. Something was teasing at the edge of his conscience, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. This lingering feeling of alienation, of something not being quite right. Greg lifted his gaze, wanting to look at the setting sun, expecting warm rays of sunshine on his face. How odd, normally... His thought trailed off.

Quickly and with a sensation of urgency, he jumped up from his chair and walked back into his kitchen, had to squint his eyes to not be blinded by the setting sun. That wasn’t right. He never got the afternoon sun in his kitchen. His kitchen was facing east, not west.

East...

That simply couldn’t be. In disbelief, Greg ran back and forth between office and kitchen, east and west. But no matter how many times he checked, the sun was still setting on the wrong site of the building. Trying to find a logical explanation for this, to make sense of what he was seeing he blinked a few times, reflected back on everything that had happened today.

Then, coincidentally, his eyes found the calendar on the wall. According to the sheet, it was the 28^th February. Friday. The last day of the month. No, that couldn’t be right. He went over to the calendar, flicked the page. The first day of March, marked as a Saturday, glared back at him. Greg pulled out his phone to check the date, convinced the calendar must be wrong. And, in fact, his phone was showing him something different. He double even triple checked but his phone was clearly stating that it was the 29^th, not the 28^th. But that couldn’t be right either. It was Sunday, the 1^st March. Not Saturday the 29^th, since, in fact, that had been yesterday. He remembered because there had been stuff on the radio asking how everyone was spending their extra day, the leap day, this year. The time on his phone showed 8:30. 8:30am. An absurd thought occurred to him. All the actions he had witnessed this day that had seemed out of place, that had seemed wrong...

Greg looked up at the setting sun. There was only one explanation that made sense to him. An explanation that made his chest feel tight and his mouth dry. It wasn’t possible that the sun was setting in the east. It wasn’t possible unless... Unless he wasn’t looking at a sunset.

In utter disbelief Greg stared as the last rays of the sun threatened to disappear beyond the horizon. Watched the sun rising in reverse.

He started shaking when he considered the implications. Everything he had experienced today had served to undo whatever had happened on leap day. To erase traces of the extra day. His hands were still trembling when he lifted his phone, redialled the last number on his call log. He held the phone to his ear, ready to listen to whatever theory Connor had come up with. Scared to find answers to the questions that were racing through his head when the sun finally disappeared behind the rooftops across the street.