After some initial irrational moments of panic, we didn’t think it a big deal at first. We simply went back in time a couple of days (making sure that we were able to receive the check in the mail again, of course) so that we could upgrade the apartment’s security features. We installed new deadbolts, new surveillance systems. I mentally scolded myself for not having been more careful; Zoe did it out loud.

The time came again and we went through the eighth day once more: Same morning news, same trip to the bank, same getting mugged, same dual mugging with Zoe allowing my fatality the first time through. It was our hope that we would not have had to go through the same ordeal.

We were wrong.

Once again, the apartment had been broken into and torn to shreds. Once again, much of the same was missing. Once again, the suitcase was gone too—and this time, whoever had availed themselves of our possessions had undergone a lot of trouble to pilfer it.

That realization triggered a thought I didn’t much care for.