When Sarah Wright's day begins moving backward, she must uncover the truth about her mother's death before time catches up with her.
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It's no surprise that chronically late Sarah Wright wakes up late. Unfortunately for her, she's about t...
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Time is complicated.
For instance, I can't quite recall the amount of time it took me to look away when my knife found the heart of my first love. But I do know the exact number of times that Max forgave me for lying to him about it.
In the short time I had known him, Max had become kinda like my guardian angel. Things were always simpler when he was involved.
He made me feel better than I was, even when I knew it wasn't true. I was satisfied if he was.
Despite all that, I don't think he will ever trust me again if I don't keep my promise this time.
Yet this is all much more complicated than I've made it sound, but complicated is how it's always been since the day I met him.
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You know that sinking feeling when you wake up, and you just know you're late? Everything starts off a little too perfect. There's that stray sunbeam that peaks through your blinds and lays across your face, but never directly in your eyes. The air in your room feels suspended; you can even see tiny particles of dust frozen in the light. You don't feel groggy or hung over, and fuck, you may not even have morning breath. Whatever it is, there's something primal inside of you that kicks the adrenaline on, and suddenly, you've gone from peaceful to darting around your bedroom, firing off every expletive known to man.
"I set five alarms!" Thankfully, I'm yelling at nothing and no one but myself because if someone were here, I know I'd start an argument I have no intention of starting.
The most important moment of my life and I'm late, and not just by two minutes... no. I should have left my apartment at 8 a.m., over an hour ago, and now I'll have to pay for an Uber because god knows I can't wait for the next bus to take me across town.
I throw on the clothes I laid out the night before, corporate casual, my friend Jen calls it, all black with a hint of hunter green; it's my favorite color. I straightened my hair before bed, so just a little hairspray and I'm not one for much makeup, so the mascara and eyeliner are done while I stand outside waiting for my ride to pull up.
"Sarah?" My Uber driver, Greg, asks as I slide into the backseat.
