Miss Tibbs

The door opened.

Nathan blinked.

Standing there, beaming like sunshine, was a woman he hadn't seen in years—Miss Tibbs, his high school drama teacher, one of the focal points of his boyhood crushes. Her long brown hair was loose and wavy, tumbling over a gauzy, embroidered blouse in shades of plum and gold. That same cute button nose. That same sparkle in her eyes. She looked exactly like he remembered—if not a little better.

"Nathan!" she said, delighted. "Are those for me? You shouldn’t have! Here, let me put those in some water. I’ll be right back."

Before he could stammer a word, she gently plucked the bouquet from his hands and disappeared into the house.

He was frozen.

His brain sputtered like a dying engine. Miss Tibbs? Miss Tibbs?! What the hell was happening? Why wasn't he with Erica right now? What had Sally done?

"Sally?" he muttered under his breath.

"Yes, Nathan?" the AI chirped in his ear, as polite as ever.

"What the hell is this?!"

"Compatibility parameters recalibrated. You are now engaged in a date scenario with 'Daisy Tibbs,' age thirty-six, occupation: drama teacher. Compatibility index: 73.2%."

He flinched. "Daisy is her first name? How did you even know that?"

"She prefers it to 'Miss Tibbs.' You'll find that out momentarily."

The door opened again.

Miss Tibbs—Daisy, apparently—stepped back out, beaming. "Okay! Flowers in water. You ready to go?"

"Uh… yeah," Nathan managed, still halfway expecting the world to blink again. He opened the passenger door for her, because manners were muscle memory at this point.

As he got in the driver's side, he cleared his throat. "So, uh, Miss Tibbs—"

She shot him a look. Playful, amused. "Daisy, Nathan. You can call me Daisy. You did ask me on this date, remember?"

He tried to smile. "Right. Daisy. Sorry."

She settled into the seat, humming a little tune, full of energy. "So! Where are we going, Mister Mystery?"

Nathan hesitated. "I… I was thinking we had a reservation?"

"Ooooh, yes! You did mention that cute little French bistro downtown. The one with the tiny desserts. Sounds yummy!"

Relief washed over him like a bucket of warm water. Same place as Erica. So it wasn't a total rewrite. Maybe this wasn’t a nightmare. Maybe Sally hadn't entirely lost her mind.

They pulled out onto the road. Nathan glanced at her. She was already chatting away, gesturing animatedly with her hands, her bangles clinking musically with every movement.

She told stories about school—how her students were driving her bonkers, the set for the spring play that kept collapsing, the sophomore who tried to stage a sword fight in the hallway.

He managed polite chuckles and half-hearted replies, still scrambling to reassemble his reality.

Then, the conversation shifted.

"I'm really glad you asked me out," she said, voice a little softer. "You know... I always thought you were cute. Even back in school. But, you know… rules." She laughed, a soft, breathy thing. "God, you were such a distraction in class."

Nathan's hands tightened on the steering wheel.

"Tall, quiet, those dark eyes..." she reached over, fingers sliding through his hair. "Something about teenage boys like you were just drives me wild."

His stomach flipped.

She leaned closer, her perfume light and citrusy. "I used to imagine you saying 'Miss Tibbs, I need some extra help after class,'" Her voice dropped an octave. "And I'd say Of course you do, Nathan. Let’s lock the door, shall we?"

Nathan cleared his throat. "S-Sally?"

"Yes?"

"Reset. Right now."

"Understood."

The world blinked.