The digital clock on Mark's nightstand glowed 2:17 AM, a harsh red against the absolute darkness of his bedroom. He'd been sound asleep, lost in the kind of deep, dreamless slumber that only comes after a long, mundane day. The apartment was silent, the city outside a distant hum, a familiar lullaby he barely registered anymore. It was just another Tuesday night, indistinguishable from countless others, promising nothing more exciting than the morning alarm and the usual grind.

Then, the buzzing started. It wasn't the gentle chime of a standard notification, but a frantic, insistent vibration that seemed to crawl under his skin. His phone, lying face down on the worn wood of the table, pulsed with an urgency that made him jolt awake. Groggily, he fumbled for it, his eyes struggling to adjust to the sudden, aggressive light of the screen. The lock screen was ablaze with a flurry of alerts, each one a stark white box against the black.

He blinked, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, trying to make sense of the jumble of messages. They weren't from friends or family, nor were they the usual spam. These were news alerts, stark and official, but the timestamps made his blood run cold. They were all dated for tomorrow, October 27th, yet they were arriving now, in the dead of night. The first one read: 'Downtown intersection becomes scene of fatal car crash.' Mark’s breath hitched; he’d driven through that exact intersection just that afternoon.