Snapshots Of Love (OneShots)

Chapter 30- Mr. and Mrs. Roboto 2

The air was thick with cigarette smoke and incense, clinging to Jennifer's skin as she blinked, trying to make sense of the room around her. A disco ball spun lazily above, casting fragmented light over the packed dance floor. Groovy basslines thumped through the club, the rhythm sinking deep into her chest. But everything felt wrong, too slow, too heavy. The neon lights, the sleek skyline of the city she'd known, it had all vanished.

Instead, wood-paneled walls and velvet-covered couches surrounded her. A DJ spun vinyl records in the corner, and men in wide-lapel suits and women in bell-bottoms swayed to the pulse of funk and soul that reverberated through the space.

Jennifer's breath quickened, her chest tightening as déjà vu hit her like a wave. Stronger this time. It almost pulled her under. She reached for the edge of the bar, trying to ground herself, but flashes kept coming. Images of the rooftop bar, Ben, the glitch... fragments of her previous life, sharp as broken glass, cutting into her mind.

She squeezed her eyes shut. Not again. Please, not again.

Everything about the room felt distorted, like she had stepped into a dream that was fraying at the edges. The flashing lights, the music, it was all too familiar, yet too distant, as if part of her had been here before but couldn't place when.

She blinked, forcing her eyes open again, scanning the room. Faces swirled around her, unfamiliar, blurry, like a carousel of people she couldn't quite focus on. None of this makes sense. Her mind raced, trying to grab onto something solid, but the past and present blurred. She'd been here before, somehow. But how could that be?

"Ben," she whispered, the name escaping her lips, unbidden, as if it had been hiding inside her all along.

Her heart pounded in her chest as her gaze swept over the room, searching for something, no, someone. She didn't know who or why, but she knew there was a missing piece. Someone who belonged here with her, even if she didn't fully understand why.

"Sweetheart, you alright?"

The bartender's voice cut through the haze, pulling her back into the present. Jennifer turned, finding him staring at her with concern etched deep in his lined face.

She forced a smile, though it didn't reach her eyes. "Yeah," she muttered, her voice hollow. "I'm fine."

But she wasn't fine. None of this is fine.

The scent of musk cologne and vinyl records twisted something deep inside her chest, a memory from another time. Or maybe it was just another dream. Lately, she couldn't tell where the lines blurred, where memory faded into fantasy. The heavy air pressed down on her as she scanned the room once more. The flashing lights, the pulsing music, it felt wrong, too bright, too loud.

But I know this place. She didn't just recognize it, she felt it deep inside her, like it was part of her story. The bell-bottoms, the disco music, the humid air, it wasn't just familiar. It was a memory.

Her heart drummed faster. He's here. He has to be.

And then she saw him.

Standing near the entrance, talking to a group of people. His hair was longer, his shirt unbuttoned at the collar, revealing a gold chain. He looked different, more comfortable in this 1970s world, but it was him. His eyes, the same eyes that had haunted her dreams, dark and searching.

Her pulse quickened. She took a hesitant step forward, then stopped herself. She couldn't just walk up to him. What if he didn't know her? What if everything they had shared, all the memories, the strange flashes, were only hers?

Ben leaned against the wall, the smoke from his cigarette curling lazily around him as he tried to focus on the conversation happening around him. But his mind was elsewhere. Everything felt... off. He couldn't place it, but it gnawed at him, like he wasn't where he was supposed to be.

The 1970s. He had always loved the aesthetic, the music, the clothes, but this felt different. There were flashes, brief moments where something tugged at the edge of his consciousness. Memories? Dreams? He wasn't sure anymore.

He took a slow drag from his cigarette, exhaling, but the feeling clung to him like smoke. Images of a woman with dark eyes and a voice that seemed to whisper in his dreams. Her face, always just out of reach. He felt like he knew her, like she was a part of him. But from where?

He shook his head, trying to push the thoughts away, but they followed him like a shadow. Jennifer.

Ben blinked, a cold realization settling over him. He had never met a woman named Jennifer, at least not in this life, but he could picture her perfectly. Her voice, her laugh, the way she moved. It was like they had known each other for years.

He tossed the cigarette into the ashtray and turned toward the dance floor. And then he saw her.

She was standing by the bar, her eyes locked on him. For a moment, the room blurred, and all he could see was her face. And just like that, everything came rushing back. The dreams, the flashes of another life, another time. He knew her. He had always known her.

His heart pounded in his chest. He couldn't stop himself. Before he even knew it, his feet carried him toward her, cutting through the crowd, until he was standing right in front of her.

Jennifer's breath hitched as Ben approached. His eyes locked onto hers, and in that moment, she knew. He remembered. Maybe not everything, maybe not all at once, but he remembered something.

"Do I know you?" Ben asked, his voice steady but laced with something else, uncertainty, and maybe even hope.

Jennifer swallowed, her hands trembling. "Yes," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "You do. And I know you."

He blinked, confusion flickering across his face. "That's crazy. I've never met you, but I... I can't shake this feeling. Like we've done this before."

"We have," She said, her voice stronger now. She leaned in, her heart racing. "I don't know how to explain it, but we're stuck in something... a loop."

He stared at her, his brows knitting together. He wasn't laughing. He wasn't brushing it off. "A loop?" he echoed, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Like... we've met before? In other lives?"

Jennifer nodded. "Yes. Over and over again. I keep remembering pieces... fragments of other times, other places. And it's always you."

He was silent for a moment, and Jenn braced herself for the inevitable disbelief. But instead, his expression shifted. His eyes widened, and he exhaled sharply. "The dreams," he murmured. "I've been dreaming about you."

Relief washed over her. "It's not just dreams, Ben. They're memories. We've done this before. And I think... I think we're supposed to leave something behind this time. Something to help us remember next time."

Later that night, in a quiet corner of the club, Ben pulled out a small pocket knife. Without a word, he began carving their initials into the underside of the table.

"B + J," he said softly, watching the letters take shape. "It's simple, but it's something."

Jennifer smiled, her heart lighter than it had been in days. "It's a start."

They stood back, staring at the simple carving. It wasn't much, but it was enough. A reminder. A piece of their story that would carry forward into the next life, the next loop. Maybe next time, they would remember a little more. Maybe next time, they wouldn't have to start all over again.

In the weeks that followed, Jennifer and Ben began to fit into the 1970s with surprising ease. They spent their nights together in dimly lit clubs and diners, dancing to slow, soulful ballads. Their movements were in sync, as if choreographed by something bigger than themselves. The feeling of déjà vu no longer unsettled them. It was a comfort now, a quiet reminder that their love had transcended the limits of space and time.