Alice sits on the riverbank, Dinah purring in her lap. The afternoon sun warms her face, but her eyes are fixed on the pocket watch in her hand—the one the White Rabbit dropped during his frantic dash. She turns it over, studying the intricate gold casing. The watch ticks steadily, but something feels off. The second hand moves counterclockwise. A rustle in the hedgerow makes her look up. The White Rabbit bursts through, coat askew, ears flopping. 'The Grammys!' he gasps, out of breath. 'Five new categories, and they've changed the rules for Best New Artist! I've been new for centuries—do they think I'm not eligible?' Alice blinks. 'You're worried about awards?' 'Of course I'm worried!' He snatches the watch from her hand. 'Do you know how hard it is to maintain relevance when you're always late? The Queen demands punctuality. The Hatter questions my timekeeping. And now this!' He shakes the watch. 'I need a category. I need recognition. I need—' He stops, staring at the watch. 'Why is it running backward?' Alice stands slowly. 'Maybe you've been going the wrong direction.' The Rabbit's ears droop. For a moment, he looks lost. Then a familiar grin flickers in the air beside them—just a set of teeth, suspended midair. 'Or maybe,' says the Cheshire Cat's voice, 'time has finally decided to catch up with you.' The grin vanishes. The watch ticks on. Alice feels a cold knot form in her stomach.