Date

Marty sat at a table of the cafe, fiddling in his chair, eyes jumping around, looking towards the entrance, then back outside through the open window. Sun glared on the metal fence outside, rose bushes covering the wall alongside the small alleyway. A stray walked past, only to reward the man with a disgusted look, seeing how he didn't have anything to offer.

Checking the watch again, then ordering his drink, smiling at the waitress. She returned the smile, then walked back behind the bar, while the soft click of the front door closing announced a woman's arrival. Blonde, with beautiful bright eyes, Trish walked directly to Marty's table, then sat, putting her handbag on the chair's backrest.

He knew how it's going to go this time. "Sorry I'm late, the traffic is horrid today" - that's what she's going to say. Then make another excuse why she didn't consider leaving earlier. Then order white zinfandel, whilst chattering about how her week went.

And so she did. "Sorry, but I'm really glad you reached out to me again. I was worried we won't have another chance to meet, but I'm really pleased it worked out."

Heavy, uncomfortable feeling formed somewhere at the base of the Marty's stomach. "I have definitely heard that before", he thought.

"How was your week?", he asked, leaning back and lighting up a cigarette.

"Oh, not too bad, I only was late, like, three times and my boss only yelled at me once, so that's going well", she replied in a singsong voice, then grinned again.

"You know, I have trouble remembering what you do again, it's something with finance, right?" Trish raised her eyebrows. "Don't worry about it. Want to pick something to eat first? I'm starving."

Waitress was back. The woman accepted her glass of wine, while the man threw a puzzled look to the waitress. "Ready to order, sir?" "I just did. A glass of dry red." "Oh sorry, coming right up. You also can't smoke inside, so I have to ask you again to please put out your cigarette." The man furrowed his eyebrows and abided, watching the waitress walk behind a bar once again.

"You know, last time we were here she did the same thing, but I remember this place being smoke-friendly for the longest time." "Have we been here before? I think it wasn't me then", - Trish narrowed her eyes. The sunken feeling in the stomach got worse.

"I'm pretty sure we did. It's like a feeling of déjà vu, I think last time she forgot my drink too."

Trish smiled.

"That's right, I remembered, it was a few months back, I think it was snowing on that day too, this never happens here."

They spent a few minutes deciding on their food. After that the woman excused herself for a minute, pecked the man on the cheek, then took her handbag and left for a few minutes, while the man watched the stray walk past, meeting the dog's eyes, clearly reading contempt as he wasn't about to share anything of his plate with a dirty mutt.

"Hey, I'm back", - woman's voice brought the man back to his senses.

They spent the afternoon complaining about their boring weeks, planning the next evening out and then, after an awkward moment of silence, when no one spoke and then spoke at the same time, Marty finally decided to come clean.

"Look, Trish, I have this weird sensation like we've been on this exact same date before, and at the end of the evening something unpleasant happens, but I don't remember what exactly."

Trish's smile faded briefly, then lit up again.

"Nonsense, last time we were here it was completely different. I think the waiter was a girl, too."

Marty shoot a look toward the kitchen. Here he was, the waiter, carefully writing something down on the menu with one hand, phone in the other hand. Something wasn't right.

"I... I gotta go. I'll see you Monday?"

He jumped to his feet, dropped a few notes on the table and was right by the door, when Trish caught up to him.

"Hey, Marty, what's going on? Everything alright? Why don't we go back to my place today, I wanna know what's going on with you life lately? You haven't been returning my calls."

"No, Trish, I really gotta go, I sense like something is happening again." He almost ran through the door, then, picking up a pace he swerved right into a tight alleyway, when he received a strike in the back of a head, collapsing to the ground. Everything went dark.

What felt like a few centuries later, as if through thick layer of water he heard an older woman's voice: "So, another one this week! You've been doing great, Trish, I think I'll finally be able to get you that promotion I promised."

"Thank you, madam. I'm doing my best. Any other leads I can look into?"

"No, you can relax for this week. Bruno is going to sniff out a few more candidates this weekend and we'll be expecting you back Monday 9 a.m. sharp. Please, it's not easy to sell your promotion if you can't be here on time."

"I'll do my best, madam."

Trish's voice became casual: "Right then, I'm off. Want me to turn on the furnace on the way out?"

"Be a doll."

Then, a deep sigh.

"We'll find your son, madam, I promise. You've got the best team, I feel like we can rival those serving under the last director."

"I know you will. Well, tata!"

Marty heard footsteps, then a sound of heavy metal door being pulled open, then closed.

"The copies are getting dumber day by day, can't even remember their facts straight anymore.", he heard a mumble.

Marty opened his eyes to an unlit room, the metal walls black with soot. An unfamiliar smell lingering in the air, piercing what remains of last conscious senses.

In that room a group of people in the varied states of upright. Some standing with a vacant expression on their face, others still lying without a semblance of life in them.

They all looked like Marty, because they all were Marty. Hearing footsteps, some of them woke up, heads moving in unison, catching faint sounds from behind the wall.

"You will not find Marty. He's all of us.", a rumble of multiple voices, speaking in the same tone, in the same note.

Clanking sound, then a low hum of gas igniting in the burner's pipes. The familiar smell of burning flesh never gets less disgusting.

"Déjà vu, my ass."