Date check: February 2nd

The alarm went off at 6.00am the next morning, Nicole groaning and tutting as the same song played from the day before, the same two guys talking over the music, welcoming everyone to Purgatory for the festival. "You're playing the same tape as yesterday guys," she said as she headed to the bathroom.

"Do you think Pete is gonna come out and see his shadow?"

Nicole turned off the water. "Seriously guys, you're a day late."

"That's right woodchuck chuckers, it's February Second."

"Oh, please. Someone fire these clowns."

Checking her phone, she stared at the date on display: February 2.

Rushing to the window the scene outside was exactly as she remembered from the day before, visitors to Purgatory on their way to where Pete would be making his prediction, nothing out of place. "Too much wine," she concluded, looking around the room for the bottle. "I'm working too hard, that's it. I need a vacation."

She hurried to get dressed, opening the door to her room only to find the unopened bottle where Dolls left it. "This is fucking nuts," she whispered, picking it up, placing it on the dresser.

Dolls was sat in the same place as before, a same plate of meats and cheeses before him, stopping eating as she sat. "What day is it?" she asked, the same woman asking if she wanted coffee.

"February Second."

"The same as yesterday."

Dolls looked up from his breakfast. "No, that was February First."

"Yesterday was February Second," Nicole insisted. "We did our thing, I did my thing. Really well, I might add. Then we left, the blizzard brought us back."

"If you say so. I'll be heading out in fifteen minutes."

"To Pittsburgh. Heading out to Pittsburgh."

"To do the piece on Pete."

"But...but, I did it. I did the piece yesterday. I really did. It was great."

"Well, do it again. Waverly wants us there by seven fifteen."

"I'm losing it," she mumbled to herself as Dolls finished eating, throwing his napkin on top of his plate, leaving her in a state of confusion.

Waverly was already at the site where Purgatory Pete would make his annual appearance, a bag of freshly baked donuts in her hand like day before. She was deep in conversation with the same woman as they approached, Nicole noticing for a second time the woman's eyes drinking her in. "Mercedes these are my colleagues."

"Can we talk?" Nicole said, taking Waverly by the arm, leading her a few steps away. "I think I'm having a problem."

"Have you been drinking?"

"Drinking would be a lot more fun. A problem. A sort of a problem. I can't explain. Actually, I can. It involves a guy dressed as a cowboy, I think, offering me something in the woods last night."

"We're here to cover Pete," Waverly replied, worried Nicole might still be high from whatever she had accepted from a cowboy in the woods the night before. "We'll talk after."

Nicole's expression told her something was wrong, Waverly praying her petulant presenter would get through the next few minutes without incident. "On me," she began, her voice quivering, "on three, two, one. Well, it's that day. Again. And, that must mean we're here in Purgatory waiting for the forecast from the world's most famous weatherman Pete, who's just about to tell us how much more winter to expect."

As soon as she finished she handed the mic to Waverly, about to leave. "Nicole, we have to finish up."

Nicole waved her hand to dismiss the comment. "Meet me in Frank's."

"You can't do this. Nicole, just finish up here then we can go get coffee."

"I can't. I'm done. I've done this before."

Waverly found her in the diner, hugging a mug of coffee, the color gone from her face. A waitress dropped a tray, several customers in the diner clapping, someone shouting "good save," to the amusement of everyone. Waverly's arms were folded, staring at Nicole, a look to say she meant business. "Okay, tell me why you're too sick to work. And, it better be good."

Nicole let out a long sigh. "I'm reliving the same day."

"I'm waiting for the punchline."

"No, really. This is the second time I've done this broadcast. All because I sold one day to a cowboy."

"I am wracking my brain," Waverly replied, still staring at Nicole. "But, I can't imagine why you'd make up something this insane."

"I am not making this up. I swear. I'm asking for your help."

"Okay. What do you want me to do?"

"I don't know," Nicole snapped. "You're a producer. Come up with something. On second thoughts, scratch that. I'll deal with this. It's my problem."

"You want my advice. I think you should get your head examined if you expect me to believe a stupid story like that."

Dolls approached the table. "You guys ready? We'd better get going if we're to stay ahead of the blizzard."

"Let's talk about this back in Pittsburgh," Waverly offered, unfolding her arms.

"I told you, I'm not going back to Pittsburgh."

"Why not?"

"Because of the blizzard. And, the cowboy."

"Fine. Stay here with this cowboy of yours. Dolls and I are heading back, with or without you."

"See you tomorrow. Or, today," Nicole replied, watching the pair depart.

Waverly sat in the front passenger seat previously occupied by Nicole, fearing her bosses back at WENH would hold her responsible for Nicole's less-than-spectacular performance, and chemical-fuelled hallucinations. "Is she mad at me?" she asked, as Dolls drove towards the tunnel. "Did I do something wrong?"

"Nah, that's Nicole for you. Thinks only about herself."

"She seemed really phased. You don't think she's on-"

"Drugs. Probably. You can't maintain that level of ego without help from a few little friends."

"She didn't come across as someone who needs a little help. I'll have to inform the station."

"It could cost her that career break she desperately wants. Could cost her the job at WENH."

Waverly contemplated what she needed to do, the snow coming down fast, the blizzard on its way. Managing to make it through the tunnel, they headed back to Pittsburgh, Waverly deciding she would wait until she had an opportunity to speak with Nicole alone before approaching the TV station, not wanting to get her into trouble without first finding out where the problem lay.

Nicole was at a loss what to do with herself, the rest of the day ahead, the same day as yesterday. Her yesterday that is, everyone else living February Second for the first time. Having confirmed she had a room for a second night at the guesthouse, by mid-afternoon she had already run out of ideas, heading to a bar to dull the existential pain she was beginning to feel, the barman refilling her glass several times. "What would you do?" she slurred, "if you had the same day, over, and over, and-"

"Kinda do working here," the guy replied. "You ready for a refill?"

"I'm being serious. The same day. What would you do?"

The guy placed a fresh glass in front of her. "Same day. No consequences."

"Same day. Over, and over, and-"

"Eat till I threw up."

"Interesting. That's it. That's all you've got."

"Rob a bank. Drink till I passed out."

Nicole lifted the glass to her lips, forcing her eyes to focus on the liquid. "Too drunk to rob a bank."

"Steal a car."

"Too drunk."

"I don't know. This is hard man. Customers usually only want help with their marriages."

Nicole placed the glass back on the bar, spilling some of the contents in the process, the barman offering to call her a cab. She waved him off, finding her purse, leaving a generous tip. The bitterly cold night air hit her as soon as she stepped outside, taking a moment to figure out which way to walk. She hadn't meant to get that drunk, not knowing how to deal with a world where consequences no longer mattered, pulling her coat up around her neck.

She made it no further than the bandstand, the lights still on, soft music playing, the same music she remembered from that morning, her eyes closing momentarily. "Is this it?" the voice beside her said. "Is this your life?"

The blurry figure of a man came into focus as she opened her eyes, leaning against one of the rails smoking what looked like a large Cuban cigar. "You want my autograph?" was all she could say.

The guy laughed. "Sure, why not. Famous presenter."

"I don't have a pen. Or, a photo."

"It can wait."

"I'm so drunk."

"Nicole Rayleigh Haught, I'll ask you again, what do you really want?"

"Not to be this drunk."

The sharp click of the guy's fingers sobered her up instantly, staring directly at Demetri. "I'll ask you again, what do you really want?"

"Who the fuck are you?"

"Adult dancer, performer, entertainer, fallen angel. Take your pick."

"Nice stage name. Take your prick."

Demetri laughed. "You're funny. You have so much potential Nicole Rayleigh Haught, but you insist on being so much less than you could be. Having so much less."

"Want to add shrink to that list of jobs of yours."

Demetri laughed even louder, taking a long draw on his cigar, letting the smoke mix with the frosty air. "No really, I like you. I wanna help, but it's in the rules."

"What rules? Seriously, what are you talking about?"

"You need to figure this out for yourself. And now, I bid you goodnight. Sleep well Nicole Rayleigh Haught."

The only evidence of her discussion with Demetri was the cigar he had been smoking, squashed against the wooden floor of the bandstand, Nicole staring at it, at a total loss as to how her life now worked. Sober and somber she returned to the guesthouse dreading what might happen in the next few hours, wishing she had pressed this Demetri guy for more information. "What fucking rules," she mumbled, placing the key in the front door. "There are no rules. Oh, my God, there are no rules. I can do what I like. If this is real, if this is really happening, I can do what I goddamn like."

The alarm went off at 6.00am the next morning, Nicole jumping out of bed, the same song playing, and the same guys welcoming everyone to Purgatory. The view outside was the same too, everyone heading towards the site where Pete would be making his prediction, a new day for everyone but her. She couldn't contain her excitement, showering, dressing, heading down to breakfast, remembering the bottle of red wine outside her door.

Dolls was tucking into his plate of meats and cheeses. "This is going to be a great day," she announced, sitting opposite, nodding at the offer of coffee. "This is the best day of my life. Ever."

Dolls looked up from his food. "If you say so. Waverly wants us there by seven fifteen."

"Not going. Better things to do."

Dolls was glad he didn't have a mouthful of food. "You'd better be there."

"Tell Waverly I'll be in Frank's."

Dolls finished his food, throwing his napkin on top of his plate. "You tell her."

Waverly's face on entering Frank's told everyone she was there for a fight. "What the hell, Nicole? You have a job to do."

"Not any more. I quit."

"What? You can't quit. And, what's with all this food?"

"I've quit dieting too. Oh, and flossing, giving a damn, and generally worrying what people think of me."

Waverly slumped in the seat opposite. "I give up. I know this might not be important to you, but it is to me. I have a career Nicole. And, whatever this is..."

"That's the thing," Nicole replied, selecting a fresh cream pastry from one of the many plates before her. "You don't. You so don't."

"How dare you," Waverly snapped. "You don't get to decide my future."

Dolls approached. "You guys ready? We'd better get going if we're to stay ahead of the blizzard."

"Would you like a doggy bag?" Waverly said, staring at the abundance of food still to be consumed.

"I'm going to stay here and finish."

"I thought you hated this town."

"It's beginning to grow on me."

Waverly held back the tears as she entered the van. Is she mad at me?" she asked, as Dolls drove towards the tunnel. "Did I do something wrong?"

"Nah, that's Nicole for you. Thinks only about herself."

"How can she eat that much?"

"She's probably going through some personal stuff. Needs to compensate."

"You don't think..."

"Drugs. Maybe. Although, she's not the type. Cares too much about her body."

"Clearly she doesn't," Waverly corrected. "Do I tell the station?"

"You'll have to. She's gone rogue on you. Better she takes the blame rather than you."

Waverly pulled out her phone, about to call the station to let them know what had happened, stopping herself before the call connected. Whatever Nicole was going through she wanted an opportunity to speak with her alone, in private, to understand what made her bail on the broadcast.