ONE MORNING

 

The man awoke from a dream which silently disintegrated in his mind, the shards folding and dropping into a grey mist. He turned on his back and opened his eyes, focusing on the draped windows. About 7am he thought based on how lit they are at that time of the year. The day started as most: slow rising, sitting for a minute on the edge of the bed to test his balance, then shuffling off to the bathroom. He put on his clothes and walked out to the kitchen for some coffee. Sheesh he groaned as he discovered that he hadn’t prepared any the night before so he did it then. As it brewed, he checked the time and his waking calculation had been correct. A nice day for March, he thought as he gazed out his kitchen window. His weather gauge read 53 degrees. Where is the cat? His food dish is empty. He looked outside but didn’t see him. One of his favorite squirrels was on the deck looking for peanuts and this reminded him that he was hungry too. He looked around the kitchen and found that there was no bread for toast, his normal breakfast. He made a mental note to buy some at the market. Coffee in hand, went into his study and turned on his computer. His normal routine was to check the weather then start reading the Times. Nothing of note he thought: the rich get richer while screwing the poor; insane Republicans in Washington not doing what they are being paid to do; the Russo-Ukraine War drags on; some inexplicable shooting rampage in a nearby town. As he clicked on the link to his local paper, he realized that the caffeine has been slow to kick in and the brew was strangely tasteless. As was his habit, he checked the obituaries. Never know who you might know. It’s in alpha order, last name first and a long list-normal for a Sunday. Usually he doesn’t go over to page 2 but today, for some reason, he does. About half way down the page he sees a familiar last name. Hmm he thought, perhaps a cousin. Wait! That is my name!! It can’t be!! It’s a prank, a mistake!! His heart was racing as he read the details of his life. Yep, same birth date, parents, wife. His eyes caught the death date: five days ago! His mind swirled. If I am dead, why am I still conscious? Is this some Twilight Zone episode? Or am I still dreaming? With his eyes still on the screen, he reached for the coffee cup but couldn't grip it. Annoyed, he looked over and watched in horror as his hand went right through it. He heard a noise on the street. Oh God Oh God Oh God there’s a moving van out front and