Again, Liliya

Saturday, 16 October 2027. Novosibirsk.
Your wife Liliya is making strawberry jam.
Tomorrow, you wake up on Friday.
Again, Liliya is a first-person psychological mystery played backwards. Spend each day in a small flat: write your code, help your wife with the jam, sit with her for the evening shows, and read the notes on the fridge. Every morning the tear-off calendar has one more page, and every day she is someone else.
Each day back, another layer comes off.

Days with her. Make jam together, sit with her for the evening shows, and answer the door. She leads, and you follow, or you wander off and see what she does without you.

Work from home. There is code to write at your corner desk every day. Some days, it's the only thing that makes sense.

Backwards. You see what happened before you see why.

Read the house. Notes, jar labels, letters, and a fridge door full of jam, written in Russian and readable in your language. Small things don't add up until they do.

A home full of small things. Gzhel tiles, a tiled stove, a lady cuckoo who dances at midnight, and a parrot who says too much.

Not every night is quiet. Some nights you'll want the torch.