Small provincial town. Every day is like the previous one. Simple, moderately boring, but such towns are loved for this stability. The weather is always pleasant, no sudden temperature changes, no storms, no cataclysms. The town is perfect…was perfect.

Thomas couldn't even remember exactly at what point a worm of doubt had sapped his confidence in a good life in a nice suburb. Each day was similar to the one before, but he always liked it, bringing a smile to his face at sunrise and sunset.

Accurately calculated days. Waking up, running through the sleeping streets with a friendly greeting from the same "larks", breakfast, maintaining a neat appearance, checking all the books and shelves, and then it's the opening of the library. For Thomas, the library was never silent, it rang with silence, which gently directed his thoughts to reading the next book. Another world in which he will plunge headlong, but in no case to the detriment of his work! The library should be in perfect order: books on the shelves, chairs pulled up to the tables, obligatory cleanliness and ringing silence. With the closing of the library, Thomas carefully watched so that not a speck or a speck of dust remained in his Kingdom. Before sunset, walk to a small park with an artificial pond, then return back to the grocery store so as not to run out of fresh food.

At this time, the evening procession of the Circus began in the city. While the inhabitants of the Circus, led by their Owner, traditionally went around the perimeter of the city, inviting everyone to join, Thomas, having closed all the doors and shutters, plunged into his favorite part of the day.

A retro gramophone with sweet sounds of the movement of a needle on a record dipped the librarian into a sea of ​​classical music while he prepared dinner for himself, ate in splendid solitude, and then read the chosen book until bedtime. Not a single thought arose about boredom or the desire to change something, on the contrary, such a life seemed perfectly balanced. An exemplary quiet life in a city suitable for this.

The shell of a perfect world cracked when, as he dusted the shelves, he noticed a strange pattern. Dust settled more strongly in some places and almost absent in others. It would seem stupid - people just love some books more than others, nothing more, but the movement into the abyss began, even if it was imperceptible. Previously oblivious to the books that visitors take, he suddenly felt a clear sense of déjà vu. The visitor asks to bring a book that should be in the library, but he can’t find it, Thomas goes as if on autopilot, without looking at the card of the requested book, almost blindly finds it with a habitual movement, as if he had done it hundreds of times.

"That's why I've done it hundreds of times!" Confidence pierces the guy, raising an unpleasant cold along the spine when the door closes behind the visitor.

The movement into the abyss began to accelerate.

That same evening, Thomas found all the library cards, discovering to his horror that he had written down the same book titles with his own hand. Readers took books, read them, returned them to their place, and later they took all the same books they had read again, and as if in an endless rewind, groundhog day.

After rereading all the cards, looking at the same notes made by his own hand, the guy, in a fit of rising panic, specially burned his hand while he was preparing dinner. A trifle, but if around Groundhog Day, then the burn should not last the next morning. The burn persisted and even became inflamed, forcing Thomas to break the standard daily schedule and break into the tea shop upon awakening.

The Tea Witch's Shop is one of the strangest places in the city. At the same time, both a tea room and a place for the manufacture of all necessary medicines. In the city, of course, there were pharmacies and even a hospital, but most often people went to the Tea Shop, barely feeling unwell. And as if by magic, a couple of bags of herbal teas cured any disease. After tea therapy, clients did not even remember the illness.

No one could remember the name of the owner of the shop, and conventionally she was called that - the Tea Witch. The assistant hostess, who took on the role of the seller, loudly repeated her name to each buyer, however, as Thomas later noted, no one could remember him either, and either asked again or was called the witch's junior assistant.

“Good morning, Miss Hope,” the librarian burst into the newly opened shop, frightening the girl.

- Kind. Morning. Thomas, she managed slowly. - You suddenly ... how can I help you?

"We need some ointment for burns!" The guy showed his hand.

Shaking off her confusion, the tea witch's junior assistant provided everything necessary, giving a small bag of chamomile tea with the purchase. He used the ointment, but for some reason he could not drink the tea and simply put it in the farthest drawer.

From that moment on, Thomas began to observe the city with an obsession. In his room, he cleared the wall and set up a writing board to record every action of the townspeople. In the depths of his soul, he hoped that everything would turn out to be just stupid fantasies, but every day he seemed to wake up from a slumber that had not previously allowed him to soberly look at the city.

Each day was still different from the previous one, but each week was an exact copy of its predecessor. Local residents worked and spent their leisure time as if according to a strictly set scenario that did not allow even a drop of improvisation. The only link that violated the general order was ... Miss Hope.

The younger witch lived according to a schedule, but she allowed herself to roam along a route known to her alone, sometimes frankly huffing at her workplace, or she could completely run away for almost half a day in an unknown direction. Among other things, the girl spoke differently. The emotional tone, confusion, trembling voice, slight hoarseness - everything said that Hope was a living person, no less alive than Thomas. However, the librarian was in no hurry to approach her.

After the burn incident, Thomas closely followed the city, taking notes every day, and immediately noticed the girl's interest in him. Bad interest. The girl seemed to expect a blow or an attack from him, straining her whole body in his presence. Sometimes, when the girl didn't know that Thomas was seeing her, she gave him a look of panic. Something told the librarian that attempts to bring the girl to a frank conversation would fail. And a month after the burn, he himself began to be afraid of the younger witch.

The new day began as usual. Waking up, jogging and memorizing the behavior of each of the townspeople she met, breakfast, opening the library... Hope came in around noon and went to look for a new book for the week. The search dragged on for almost forty minutes, but soon she left the library with a small volume of ancient Greek myths. The rest of the day was spent observing the city and its inhabitants. After starting his investigation, Thomas made it a rule to walk around the city in the evening, and before going to bed, write down everything he saw. The blackboard in the room was completely written on. Sheets of paper with additional comments were pinned to the wall next to it. Having made the last notes, the librarian walked along the shelves of the library immersed in darkness and, inhaling the pleasant smell of wood and paper, seasoned with an unfamiliar herbal aroma, went to bed.

In the morning, the sleepy librarian looked puzzled at the wall of his room, decorated with many records, not quite understanding what exactly he saw in front of him. But within minutes, panic set in. Half of the weekly notes were unfamiliar, as if someone had left the notes in Thomas's room, the other half were only vaguely recollected. The library first opened half an hour later than usual.

The librarian missed a jog and breakfast - he read forgotten records, fragment by fragment, restoring everything forgotten in his memory. Already on the run to open the library, he decided to fully study the archive and the history of the city in the hope of finding answers to the strange behavior of the inhabitants. The front door, wide open, let a stream of cold air into the room, frightening away the grassy veil that enveloped the library building.

"Witch!" Thomas was suspicious.

A run along the shelves where Hope was looking for reading material, with a careful search, revealed to him many small bags filled with an unknown odorous herb.

“Wanted me to forget! And if it weren’t for the records… we need to make more records!” - Thomas was blazing with anger, scattering things around his closet, not even sparing his favorite records.

Only the blackboard and notes he carefully avoided, afraid to even breathe in their direction. After kicking his own bed a few times, he froze. A sheet of paper protruded from the headboard of the bed, protruding from the impact. Feeling his rookery, Thomas came to the discovery of a small secret space there, allowing him to hide several sheets of paper inside.

Having opened the library for visiting, the guy sat down at his desk and carefully unfolded the found sheet.

“ I don’t know how much of what I have written I will remember tomorrow.

Day by day my memory fails me, only records save me.

Something is wrong with this city.

Not only me - no one remembers any changes.

Yesterday a group of five people arrived. They saw this city for the first time. I even managed to talk to them. But this morning I saw them. They have become part of the city, some work in a bakery, some in a cinema, some in a stadium. Everyone has a permanent residence here in the city. But that's not the weirdest thing. They remember me like we grew up together for years. They say they have been living in this city for as long as they can remember. And I ... I also remember them now as citizens and locals. For as long as I can remember, they lived here. I met them for the first time yesterday! But today they are my old friends! HOW?!