My childhood friend says there's a word for my Deja Vu called, "Nevernow."

This one needs a little backstory.

I remember a rainbow. I'm not sure why, but that's what I remember when I think about how she and I met. Eighth grade, a wet playground, a rainbow, and her drawing in a sandbox with a stick.

She liked to doodle in the wet sand - apparently it just held its shape better - and the day I said my first hello, she was in the middle of etching the same circle over and over.

I asked why she was just drawing a single circle, and I clearly remember her shyly saying, "Because it doesn't end."

I thought she was weird, but hell, so was I. So I sat and grabbed my own stick and drew a circle next to her. From her little grin, I could tell she found it amusing.

We became fast friends.

Some time later, something odd happened. I started getting more deja vu, just flickers of it, hinting that I'd already been here or done this, whatever it was. I wrote it off; it was a little freaky but my parents told me it was fine. My friend even said it happened to her sometimes too. So, you know, I thought it was fine.

But it got more frequent and more aggressive. I'd be doing homework, and I'd get that feeling again, and when it went away, whatever question I'd been working on, I had already written down the answer somehow.

Or, I'd be talking to a friend over the phone, and I'd have these moments, and just kind of say what they say at the same time. Like I knew.

I told people. My parents, friends. Unable to explain it, my parents took me to a doctor. In his office, he said he had no idea what my folks were talking about, and that he could try medication, but it wasn't recommended. We didn't have a lot of money, so they just took me home and let me be.

And all my life, I've dealt with this. It seems to have reached a sort of plateau, happening here or there and then not again for a long time.

I lost contact with my little sandbox friend some time ago. Years at this point. And I moved on, learned to deal with it. In some ways, it was pretty handy. I could sometimes guess test answers in college, if the sensation hit. Or I could tell what my boss would say, almost before he said it.

Life moved on. Until a few days ago.

I got home from work exhausted. It had been a long day. Sat in my car just breathing for like half an hour when I got home. And then I got that nibble in my brain. It's like a little worm wiggling around. The deja vu was about to strike, and I could feel it would be a strong one, like lightning.

It did. And for a moment it felt like I was both in my car, and at my door, where a small, folded note had been taped. "For you," it read.

A bird called in the twilight. And I was... on the way to my door. I don't remember getting out of the car, which is really weird for these already weird moments. Honestly, it left me a little dazed. Took me a minute to literally shake it off and head up my brick stairs.

There it was. The note. And I knew the handwriting, too. Something of a shock still hit me as I opened it though. A circle sat perfectly drawn in the center of the page, and in it, the words, "We need to talk. Meet me at the Cat Brew Cafe."

O-kay, I thought. Strange, but not unlike her. Shrugging, I opened my door to kick my shoes off and settled in. But as I came inside, I saw the tail end of a shadow slink into my kitchen.

I froze. A cold pang jabbed at my stomach. My breathing quieted, and I crouched and hugged the wall, pulling out my phone with trembling hands. It could have, I suppose, been my friend. If she was still as weird as ever, she'd do something like this. Still, I couldn't take any chances.

Carefully I crept up to the intersection between the kitchen and the hallway, and peered into the dark room. No shadows, nothing really, so I snuck in and grabbed a knife from the block as quietly as I could. Then, I tip toed to the lightswitch, and as quick as I could, I flipped it on and skipped a heartbeat.

Nobody.

I searched the whole house, inch by inch. All of the doors were locked, the windows too, and I didn't find anyone, so I wrote it off as my imagination and sat down to eat.

I got halfway through my salad before I heard a noise at the door, like someone had rasped their knuckles on the outside of it.

My heart fluttered. I stood, packed my salad away in the fridge, and walked out to the hallway to see what I could see. Nothing, so I headed back into the kitchen, and that's when I heard the door unlatch and swing open. With a gasp, I flipped the light in the kitchen off and ducked behind my island counter.

Footsteps echoed in the hall. I held my breath and worked my way over to the living room, crouched down. I barely made it before I heard them reach the kitchen. Between quick, sharp breaths I cursed and sneaked around the loop that is my home back to the hallway.

I heard a sharp breath in the kitchen. The light flipped on. More footsteps. "Fuck me," I whispered, sweat starting to bead down my forehead. As quickly as I could, I made my way to the door and, silently, I slipped out the front and into the night.

I thought about calling the cops. Was about to, when I felt another strong nibble in my mind. A malfunction. "Not now," I quietly pleaded.

Then the deja vu hit.

I saw myself both outside of my home, on the brink of tears, *and* parking at the Cat Brew Cafe. I both stood and began to cry, and stood outside of the café, searching for my friend. It's really hard to describe. But then I heard her voice, delicate and sweet, call my name, and I suddenly found myself just at the café.

I blinked. "What the fuck?"

She came into the center of my view. Her blonde hair had grown out to her waist, but her slender body remained sleek. She wore casual clothes and carried a seemingly empty backpack on her shoulders. Her sharp smile still stood out to me. It felt uncanny. Unreal, right now. But welcome and familiar.

"What's going on?" I asked her.

And her smile softened, saddened. "We need to talk," she said.

I stared in disbelief. "The café is closed! How did you know I'd be here?"

"You know how," she explained. "It happens to me too."

Blowing out a deep breath, I slumped on the street corner curb. "Okay. Well. You won't believe the night I'm having. Sorry to take over the conversation, it is good to see you. But someone broke into my house."

Her eyes widened. "What?"

"Yeah," I said, cradling my head in my hands. "It's a nightmare. I'd have called the cops but, well, I kind of ended up here first. Somehow."

She licked her lips, nodded slowly. Sat beside me gently and said, "Yeah. I get that. That's happening to me, too."

I shot her a sidelong glance. "What's happening to you?"

"The deja vu. It's moving me around," she said.

My fingers flexed outward. "So... ok. This is a lot. What's up with the deja vu? I feel like that's what you wanted to talk about."

She nodded, her hair glowing in the orange lamplight of the empty street. "As much as I'd find catching up to be charming, we don't have the time."

She reached into her backpack and pulled out what appeared to be a sketchbook. Handed it to me. Told me to look. And when I opened it, I found page after page of circles. Single circles on the same page, all different in composition, with strange swirls and branching tendrils. In that moment, a deep discomfort settled within me. I stared at it, then her, and opened my mouth to speak - but she stole the words from me.

"What's this?" she asked on my behalf, taking the book back. "I don't know what it's actually called. People online call it 'Circular'. It's a language. An old, old language. The oldest known to man by far."

"Um, what?" I said, my eyebrow creeping up.

She shook her head. "Look." Then, she opened it to what I assumed to be a certain page, traced the circle there with her finger, and said, "This word. This is the one that matters most."

"I'm sorry," I said, "Who on the internet is saying all of this?"

And she gave me an owlish gaze. "The others like us. That's what this word means. It's for people like us."

"I... this sounds insane." And it did. A circle-word for people with predictive deja vu from a language older than our oldest languages - sounded like enough to get anyone locked up and medicated. Still... "What's it mean?" I softly asked.

Her glare grew somber. "Look here. This branch means "somewhere in time"," she started, pointing to an indistinct scribble. "And this one means, "not". Here is "immediate", and over here is "both". It's a word we don't have in English. It means "nevernow"."

I mouthed an awkward "oh" and said, "And... that's, us? We're "nevernow"?"

She hummed and gave a single curt nod. "Yes."

Speechless, I simply shrugged and flipped my hand out. She seemed to be able to read me, even after all these years, and said, "I know it sounds like nonsense. But for me at least, the deja vu is getting stronger. So I did some deep dives on these really weird websites and forums for people like us. And some of them do something really weird when the deja vu gets really strong like mine."

"Okay?" I said.

She let her eyes fall to the road, scanning it for invisible easy-answers. "They start posting the same final comment over and over again at an interval. For some it's twenty minutes. Others get a whole day. But they keep posting the same exact same comment like clockwork."

I felt something inside of me. The deja vu. I groaned out a pained, "No!" but it was too late. My friend gave me the sweetest, most concerned look I'd ever seen her give - and then I saw myself both there, sitting with her, and in my car, headed - I knew this somehow - to a park, in tears.

To the me still there, with her, I heard her say, "It's starting for you too."

And then I was there, parked at the park, entirely disoriented. It felt like I had to uncross my mind, like you might your eyes when you first wake up. I moaned and rubbed my forehead, the tears already drying on my cheeks. I yelled.

Screamed.

Slammed my fists on the steering wheel.

My chest grew tight, my body rigid, and I started spitting out every curse in the book.

This was proving to be one of the most stressful nights of my life. Blankly, I stared out at the lambent glow of the lamplight on the park paths. The shadows in the trees, the empty playground, the whole place felt stuck in time.

And so did I.

My phone began to buzz in my pocket, nearly giving me a heart attack. My friend's name popped up on the screen, though I didn't remember giving her my number. Still, I picked it up.

"Hello?"

"Hey," she said. "Did you make it safely?"

I hesitated. "Yeah. I guess. I'm at the park."

"You need to be very careful," she said. "Me too. When I was reading about the concept of a "nevernow", people were saying they tend to get trapped after a certain point."

"Trapped?"

"Yes," she said, her voice mellow and melancholic. "They... um. They get stuck in these loops."

I pressed my head into my seat's headrest and let out a long sigh. "Loops? What are you talking about?"

"I'm still trying to figure it out myself. Just, watch out for being followed. Or following," she said. "I have to go. Call me in the morning. Please."

Unceremoniously, she hung up on me. I sat back and replaced my phone in my pocket. Without any other ideas - and certainly without a desire to go home - I decided to walk around the park and soak in what I'd just heard. I packed up my things, locked my car, and set off on the winding, glowing pathways.

I stopped by the playground, sat on the swings. The rocking motion helped a bit, but I began to feel a little sick from the tumult. All I wanted was to go home and sleep it all off, but even that scared me. I had no idea what to do.

As I sat, I heard hurried, heavy footsteps rushing off into the dark. I almost fell off the swings.

It was getting colder, and I was creeped out. I needed to leave.

I stood, gave the park one last look over, and headed back to my car. I got a ways there when, in the silence, I heard the creaking of swingset chains behind me.

I didn't even look back. I just broke into a sprint and ran.

Threw myself in my car. Locked the doors. Started the engine and pulled out. As I left, I saw a figure sitting on the swingset, a woman. Short black hair. Underdressed for the cold. Seemingly lost in thought in the shadows.

I sped out of there.

That night, I slept in my car, albeit in my own driveway. Uncomfortable as it was, it was the only place I felt truly safe. The sleep was dreamless and I woke up aching and tired. Still, when I saw that early morning twilight filter through my deeply tinted windows, I felt a cool wave of relief hit me.

I got maybe three minutes of peace before the deja vu hit again. Now, I saw myself both in my car trying to warm up, and at the Cat Brew Cafe nibbling on a breakfast sandwich across from my friend.

I'm sure you get the idea by now. I blinked, and then I was there, eating and talking. I remember I froze, my sandwich halfway to my mouth, my friend giving me a quizzical look. Then, she said, "Hello again."

I scrunched my nose. "Hello? Have I not been here?"

She hummed, taking a sip of her water. I noticed in the condensation on the glass, she'd been drawing little circles. "You have, but you also just got here. I can read it on your face."

My hands started to shake so badly that I dropped my sandwich on the plate. With a desperate whisper, I pleaded, "What is happening?"

"The same thing that's happening to me. Has happened to other "nevernows", if I'm right." She tsked and looked away. "The worst part is, I don't know why, or how to make it stop."

My quivering lips could hardly eke out a word. "I feel like I'm skipping around in-"

"Time. Me too," she said.

But, speaking of time, and maybe because I was desperate for some sense of normalcy, I checked my phone and blurted out, "Oh shit! I'm late for work! I have to go, I'm so sorry. I'll call you tonight."

She watched me stand with these big, sad doe eyes. "I hope so," she said.

We parted ways, her in her beat up sedan, me in mine. And on my way out of the parking lot, I saw what looked like my car, tinted windows, red paint, scuff on the bumper, pass me headed into the lot.

I vomited. Spewed all over the clothes I'd worn to the office just yesterday. In fact I threw up so hard that I think I triggered the deja vu again, because the next thing I knew, I was *leaving* work. My clothes were clean, but the same as I'd worn yesterday. I had no recollection of the day, nor of changing my clothes. One minute I was hurling, the next I was in my car after work in the shadow of a eight story building.

I went straight home, sobbing the whole way. And at home, I cried some more. All I wanted was my bed. To sleep. Intruders be damned, I thought. I kicked open my door and stumbled out, throwing it shut. I walked around the curved path to my door, to my brick stairs, and when I laid eyes on my door, I watched it close behind someone.

I hesitated for just a second, but that was the last straw for me. I barreled into my house, quietly whipped the door shut, and shuffled inward. A figure slipped into my unlit kitchen, leaving the light off. I stood there, shaking angrily, wondering: am I really going to do this?

I was, until the light flipped on. I froze for a long time, scared shitless. Thirty minutes or so passed before I could find the courage to get moving. But when I could, I marched into the kitchen ready to demand answers. And there I saw, well, no one. Nothing was different, moved, or taken except for a single knife from the block.

Careful, I turned the light off. I didn't want to be spotted. I took another knife, crept around the house, and made it back to the hallway just in time to see...

Well. To see myself slip out the front door like a scared cat. I dropped the knife. Held my breath. That was absolutely me. The short bob haircut, the underdressed office clothes, the quick gait. It was me. Just like that was me at the park. Me at breakfast. Me me me, it was all me!

I shrieked.

Ran out of my home.

Got in my car, called my friend. But she didn't answer.

Then, there, just a few minutes ago, I got another wave of deja vu. I saw both my perspective from the car, holding my phone and calming down from a long day in the twilight... and me, heading up the brick stairs to my door. I saw a note on it. Read it.

"For you."

When I snapped to, there I was, headed up my stairs to my door. The note sat taped to the wood. I snatched it, hurriedly opened it. Recognized the handwriting. Read the words, "We need to talk. Meet me at the Cat Brew Cafe."

And collapsed on my stairs. That's where I am now. Sitting here, reading the note over and over. I'm scared.. I checked my phone to try and call my friend again, but her number isn’t in my phone anymore. In fact, there aren't even calls between us.

My memory of the past two days feels fractured, hazy. Maybe that's part of why I'm writing this, to remember as best I can. I don't understand what is happening to me and I'm terrified.

If anyone can help me, please, please say something. If you're having serious deja vu like me, how do you deal with it? This "nevernow" shit is freaking me the fuck out, so any advice would be super appreciated.

As for me, I guess. Well. I don't really know. I'm hungry. It was a long day at work. And I have this mysterious note from my friend that I don't understand.

I think I'm going to head inside and eat something. A salad maybe. Try and figure this all out. Or something.

I... think.

I just had to reread this whole post to remember why I'm even typing right now. And I feel more deja vu coming on.

I'd better go inside and eat. Lord knows I need the rest.

I am exhausted. It's been a long day.