He tried not to care. He had a credit. He could live the best hour of his life again.
He selected Hour #1. The screen asked: “Which hour will you trade?”
And again.
And when he stood up, the machine was gone. Just an empty attic, a dusty floor, and a single, ordinary afternoon stretching ahead of him, with nothing to do and nowhere to be.
Leo opened his eyes. The machine hummed. He felt… lighter. But also hollow. Something was missing. He checked his phone. The date was the same. His life was the same. But when he tried to remember the hour he’d traded away—the random soul hour—there was nothing. A blank space. A missing tooth in the timeline of his memory.