The first shot rings out at 9:47 PM, exactly as predicted.

I watch from across the street, counting heartbeats. One. Two. Three. The theater doors should burst open in—

They don't.

I check my notebook again. Every detail matches the newspaper clipping from tomorrow: Three Dead in Theater Shooting, Suspect at Large. Same venue. Same time. Same weather—that persistent drizzle that makes the streetlights blur into halos.

But the doors stay closed.

My phone buzzes. Unknown number. I answer without thinking.

"You're early," a woman's voice says. "Or am I late?"

"Who is this?"

"The person who's been reading your notebook over your shoulder for the last five minutes."

I spin around. The coffee shop behind me is empty except for a barista wiping down tables. The street is deserted.

"Don't bother looking," she continues. "I'm not there. Not yet, anyway. But I will be in about seven minutes, when you decide to run inside the theater instead of calling the police like you're supposed to."

My hands shake. I've been collecting tomorrow's newspapers for six months. I've prevented four murders, two fires, and a bridge collapse. I've never been wrong.

"How do you know about—"

"Because I've been collecting yesterday's newspapers," she interrupts. "And yours are changing."

The theater doors finally burst open. A crowd floods out, laughing, chattering about the show. No shots. No screaming. No bodies.

"Impossible," I whisper.

"Is it? You prevented three deaths tonight. Congratulations. Unfortunately, you just caused four more. Check tomorrow's paper. Front page. Gas Explosion Kills Four in Downtown Apartment. They would've been at this theater. But you scared them away with that anonymous tip you sent."

I didn't send a tip.

"Not yet," she says, reading my mind. "But you will. In about ninety seconds, when you see a man in a red jacket reaching into his coat. You'll think he's the shooter. You'll call it in. Security will evacuate. Those four people will go home early."

A man in a red jacket emerges from the crowd, hand sliding into his coat.

"Choose carefully," the woman says. "Save three strangers or four. The future's watching."

The line goes dead.

My finger hovers over the emergency call button.

Eighty-five seconds left.

#fiction #mystery #timetravel #thriller