It was an ordinary Tuesday afternoon; sunny, humidity thicker than Mamaw’s gravy, an entirely forgettable afternoon. I was walking home with a coffee I didn’t need, or really even want, my phone playing an old playlist I hadn’t updated since the pandemic. Life was on autopilot.

That’s when I saw him.

Across the street, near the bus stop. Same haircut, same walk, same birthmark above the right eyebrow. Wearing a jacket I hadn’t seen in years, because I’d lost it. Or donated it. Or something.

He looked exactly like me.

Our eyes met. He froze. I stopped walking.

It was like looking into a mirror… but one that reflected not just your face, but the weight behind your eyes. He looked tired. Or haunted.

He crossed the street fast, head down. When he reached me, he grabbed my arm.

“You need to listen to me,” he said, low and urgent.

“Okay,” I said, like an idiot.

“Where were you last Tuesday at 2:17 p.m.?” he asked.

I blinked. “What? I… I was at work, I guess. Why?”

He shook his head. “No. You weren’t. You think you were. But you were gone for exactly three minutes. You don’t remember because they stitched time around it.”

“I have no idea what you’re…”

“I’m you, from somewhere else,” he said. “A reality six degrees out of sync with yours. And they’re coming. For you.”

He pulled a coin from his pocket—no currency I recognized. It shimmered oddly, like oil on water, and pulsed faintly in my palm when he handed it to me.

“Keep this on you. It anchors memory. You’ll need it when the shift starts.”

“What shift?”

He glanced around. His eyes never stopped moving. “In my reality, they took you first. They erased your mind, turned your body into a relay. You smiled through the whole thing. People thought you were fine.”

“Well, I am fine.”

He looked at me. Really looked at me, and said, “You don’t smile like I do anymore. That’s how I knew you were still you.”

I was starting to sweat.

He continued, “There’s a moment coming. A choice. You won’t even recognize it as a choice, but it’ll branch everything. You’ll hesitate. Don’t. Whatever they offer, don’t take it.”

“Who’s they?”

A siren echoed in the distance. Not police. Something deeper. Mechanical. Wrong.

His face tightened. “I stayed too long. They can track versions of me when I cross.”

He stepped back.

“You’ll see them. They look like people, but they smell like static. And they never blink.”

“Wait! You can’t just…”

But he was already running. Down an alley. Gone.

I stood there, coffee cooling in my hand, the strange coin burning like ice in my pocket.

Then I heard footsteps behind me.

Slow. Steady. Synchronized.

Three people turned the corner. They wore business suits, smiles too perfect, and eyes that never quite settled.

They didn’t blink.

I smiled, carefully.

Just enough to keep them from noticing.

At least, for now.

Because I was still me.

And I was warned.

And, you just know I can’t neglect the obligatory shameless self-promotion. New Yesterdays is available through the following links: Books-A-Million, Barnes & Noble, and Amazon as well as your favorite bookshops. The Audiobook is available from Libro.fm, as well as Amazon.