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At exactly 6:14 p.m., Daniel Parker spilled gravy all over his mother’s Thanksgiving tablecloth.

It wasn’t a small spill.

It was the kind of spill that begins with a spoon slipping, continues with a desperate attempt to catch a gravy boat, and ends with an entire family watching a brown wave spread across something that has survived forty-three Thanksgiving dinners.

For three seconds, nobody spoke.

Then Uncle Frank said, “Well, at least the turkey’s not dry anymore.”

Everyone burst out laughing.

Everyone except Daniel.

He had spent six hours preparing this Thanksgiving dinner. He had followed three recipes, watched four cooking videos, and even bought a meat thermometer that connected to his phone.

Everything had been perfect.

Until 6:14.

Daniel looked down at his phone.

A notification had appeared.

TRY AGAIN?

Two buttons appeared beneath it.

YES and NO.

He frowned.

“That’s strange.”

He tapped YES.

And suddenly—

“Daniel, would you pass the gravy?”

He looked up.

His mother was holding out her hand.

The gravy boat was sitting beside his plate.

The tablecloth was spotless.

And the clock above the fireplace read 6:13.

Daniel blinked.

“What just happened?”

“Nothing yet,” Uncle Frank said. “Although the evening is young.”

Daniel looked at his phone.

6:13.

He stared at the gravy boat.

“Absolutely not,” he whispered.

He picked it up with both hands and carefully placed it in front of his mother.

Success.

Then his sister’s golden retriever leapt onto a chair, seized half the turkey, and disappeared beneath the table.

“BRUNO!”

The table erupted.

Daniel’s phone vibrated.

TRY AGAIN?

He pressed YES.

6:13.

The gravy was back.

The turkey was back.

Bruno was sitting innocently beside the fireplace.

Daniel slowly turned toward the dog.

“Oh, no, you don’t.”

This time, he locked Bruno in the kitchen, moved the gravy boat away from the edge of the table, and sat down triumphantly.

He had beaten the system.

Then Uncle Frank stood up to make a toast.

“Before we eat, I would just like to say—”

His elbow caught a candle.

The candle fell against a napkin.

The napkin caught fire.

His mother screamed.

Daniel grabbed a jug of water and threw it across the table.

He extinguished the flames.

He also soaked three guests, two pies and Aunt Margaret’s handbag.

His phone vibrated.

TRY AGAIN?

Daniel looked at the ceiling.

“YOU HAVE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME!”

He pressed YES.

6:13.

By the fourth attempt, Daniel had developed a strategy.

He removed the candles.

He locked Bruno in the laundry room.

He placed the gravy in the centre of the table.

He confiscated Uncle Frank’s wineglass.

He even removed the tablecloth.

Everything went perfectly.

For approximately eleven seconds.

Then his mother asked, “Where’s the cranberry sauce?”

Daniel hurried into the kitchen.

There was a crash.

A scream.

And a very distinctive sound of glass breaking.

He returned to discover that Uncle Frank had attempted to open a bottle of sparkling cider with a corkscrew.

The bottle had exploded.

There was cider on the ceiling.

His phone vibrated.

TRY AGAIN?

“Of course,” Daniel muttered.

By the fifth attempt, he had begun issuing instructions.

“Nobody moves. Nobody touches anything. Nobody speaks unless absolutely necessary.”

Eight people stared at him.

Bruno barked from the laundry room.

Daniel took a deep breath.

“Good. Now we can finally have a peaceful Thanksgiving.”

At that moment, the electricity went out.

His phone vibrated.

TRY AGAIN?

By the sixth attempt, Daniel had stopped trying to prevent accidents.

Instead, he tried to warn everyone.

“Listen carefully! We are trapped in some kind of time loop. Every time something goes wrong, I get another chance to fix it.”

His sister stared at him.

“How much wine have you had?”

“NONE!”

Uncle Frank leaned forward.

“Then perhaps that’s the problem.”

Daniel tried to explain.

He described the gravy.

The dog.

The candle.

The exploding cider.

His family exchanged worried glances.

His mother gently touched his arm.

“Darling, perhaps you should sit down.”

Daniel threw up his hands.

And knocked the cranberry sauce directly into his sister’s lap.

His phone vibrated.

TRY AGAIN?

Daniel stared at the screen.

“Fine. One more time.”

He pressed YES.

The clock jumped back to 6:13.

But this time, something was different.

The chairs were empty.

The turkey sat untouched in the centre of the table.

The candles were burning.

The gravy boat was exactly where it belonged.

Everyone had disappeared.

Everyone except an elderly woman sitting quietly at the far end of the table.

Daniel had barely noticed her during dinner.

He wasn’t even entirely certain who she was.

She wore a bright yellow cardigan and had a small handbag on her lap.

She looked at Daniel over the top of her glasses.

“Well,” she said. “That took longer than expected.”

Daniel stared.

“Who are you?”

The woman smiled.

“More importantly, Daniel, why do you keep trying to fix the wrong thing?”

She opened her handbag.

And took out a phone identical to his.

On its screen were two words.

FINAL ATTEMPT.

Who was the mysterious woman? Why was Thanksgiving repeating itself? And what had Daniel been trying to fix all along?