The rain fell in steady sheets, soaking the empty streets in a dreary gray. Evan stood in the middle of the sidewalk, clutching a crumpled photograph. The edges were worn, the colors faded, but her face was still as vibrant as the day they took it. Cora. She had asked him to take a photo with her.

  Her smile lit up the frame, the kind of smile that made the world seem brighter, even on the darkest days. But now, the world felt cold. Empty.

  Evan had scoured every corner of the city for her. Abandoned buildings, hidden alleyways, anywhere she might have gone. Weeks had turned into months, and still, there was nothing. No trail. No answers. Just silence.

  Tonight, as the clock ticked past midnight, he knew he was at his limit. He had tried everything, begged everyone, and prayed to every god he could think of. But Cora was gone.

  "She's not coming back," he whispered to himself, his voice barely audible over the rain.

  His feet dragged as he walked, not caring where he ended up. The city blurred around him, neon signs and streetlights smearing together in the rain-soaked haze. He turned down a narrow alley, seeking some refuge from the storm, when a flicker of light caught his eye.

  It was a small sign, glowing faintly against the gloom. The lettering was uneven, as though painted by an unsteady hand:

  Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  "Want to change the present? Come in. The past will be your future, and the future will be the past."

  Evan stopped in his tracks, his heart pounding. He stared at the sign, unsure if he was imagining it. The words seemed to pulse, drawing him closer.

  He hesitated. It was absurd. Ridiculous. But something about the sign compelled him. Maybe it was the desperation clawing at his chest, or the tiny sliver of hope that refused to die.

  With a deep breath, he pushed open the door.

  Inside, the air was warm, almost suffocating. The room was dimly lit, filled with an assortment of oddities: clocks of every size and shape, hourglasses with shifting sands, and mirrors that reflected distorted versions of himself. At the center of the room sat an old man, his face hidden beneath the brim of a wide hat.

  "You’re looking for something," the man said, his voice low and raspy.

  Evan swallowed hard, stepping closer. "I... I need to find someone. She’s—she’s gone, and I don’t know what happened to her."

  The man tilted his head, his eyes glinting from beneath the hat. "The past holds the answers you seek. But the question is... how far are you willing to go to change it?"

  Evan didn’t hesitate. "I’ll do anything."

  A crooked smile spread across the man’s face as he reached under the counter, pulling out a small, ornate clock. It was unlike any Evan had seen before, with its hands spinning erratically and its numbers shifting positions.

  "This," the man said, placing the clock on the counter, "will take you back. But beware—the past is not as you remember it. Time is fickle, and it doesn’t like to be tampered with."

  Evan stared at the clock, his pulse racing. He didn’t care about the risks. If there was even the slightest chance of saving Cora, he had to take it.

  "What do I have to do?" he asked.

  The man’s smile widened. "Turn the hands to the moment you wish to revisit. But remember... once you enter, the rules of time no longer apply. The past will be your future, and the future will be the past."

  Evan reached for the clock, his fingers trembling. He thought of Cora—her laughter, her kindness, the way she made everything feel right. He closed his eyes and turned the hands backward.

  As the world around him began to blur and shift, he heard the man’s voice echo faintly:

  "Find her if you can, but remember—some things are lost for a reason.”