[Max, for the most part of the morning, doesn't notice anything different or odd. In fact, she does her usual routine-- takes some pictures on her way to work, where she spends a pretty lonely shift where nobody visits her. If she notices feathers on her walk or during her job, she doesn't think anything of it.
But it's when she's heading her way back towards the domes, walking through the park, that she pauses to try to take a picture of a squirrel. She leans over to capture it-- just in time for the squirrel to dash off.]
Ah. Shoot.
[She pauses for a moment, and then reaches out her hand-- about ready to turn back time enough so she can get that perfect shot, but. Nothing happens. She's just standing there, looking confused and a little dazed, and slowly lifts her hand to touch at her forehead, frowning deeply like she has a colossal headache.]