The Mailbox Had Tomorrow’s Date
I found a letter postmarked with tomorrow’s date. Inside was a warning about a thing I hadn’t done yet. By morning, reality seemed half a day ahead of me.
I found a letter postmarked with tomorrow’s date. Inside was a warning about a thing I hadn’t done yet. By morning, reality seemed half a day ahead of me.
After my car died, I found an old bus stop on a road that never had one. The schedule named a future route, and the bus I heard never came.
I cut through a town I know by heart. For ten minutes, everything slid backward to 1956. No one noticed but me—until something from then ended up on my seat.