The man's voice was unmistakable, his words heavy in the air, settling between us like a slow-moving storm. The bookstore, once filled with the quiet shuffle of pages and the scent of aged leather, seemed to vanish into a hollow hum as I stepped closer.
"Lena," he repeated, this time with a quiet urgency, his eyes never leaving mine. "You've been waiting for this."
I should have turned away. I should have walked out of the store, run back to my car, and never looked back. But my legs moved on their own, as if drawn by some invisible force, guided by the truth I couldn't escape.
"Who are you?" My voice came out softer than I meant it to, a crack in the armor I had desperately been trying to keep intact.
The man's lips curled into a faint, knowing smile. His expression was both unfamiliar and intimate, like he had seen me in a thousand places, a thousand lifetimes.
"I'm someone who knows what's coming next," he said, his voice still low but sharp, cutting through the thick air between us. "Someone who knows that time is not what it seems."
I blinked, the words echoing in my mind as they collided with everything I thought I knew. The store, the world around us, seemed to shimmer for a moment, like a mirage beginning to flicker in and out of existence.
"Time?" I repeated, unsure whether I was speaking to him or to the puzzle that had been slowly revealing itself in my mind since I'd woken up this morning.
The man nodded, his eyes dark, unreadable. "You're not just living today, Lena. You're living tomorrow too. You've already seen it. Felt it." He paused. "And soon, you will understand why."
I shook my head, a knot of confusion tightening in my chest. "What are you talking about? Why is this happening to me? What do you want?"
A flicker of something crossed his face, an emotion I couldn't quite grasp, before it was quickly replaced by the familiar calm. "I don't want anything from you. I want you to understand what's coming. What's already here."
A cold chill crept over me. I had known, deep down, that something larger than I could comprehend was at play. But I hadn't expected this—to be standing in a bookstore, speaking to a man I had only ever seen in a dream, a man who spoke as if the boundaries of time itself were unraveling.
The words I had heard in my dream surfaced once more: *Tomorrow, this will happen again.*
But I didn't know how to make sense of them. Was this happening now, or had it already happened? Was I simply repeating a future I couldn't escape? And why had he come to me now?
"Tell me," I demanded, the frustration rising in my voice, "tell me what happens next."
He looked at me for a long moment, his gaze piercing as if assessing whether I was truly ready for what was coming. Finally, he spoke again, the weight of his words sinking deep into my bones.
"There is a choice you will soon have to make, Lena. One that will echo across the rest of your life. The path you take will shape everything that follows. And it won't just affect you—it will affect everyone around you. But first, you need to understand what's happening to you."
I opened my mouth to protest, but my breath caught. I didn't know how to voice the swirling questions in my mind, the raw panic that had begun to claw at my chest. I wanted to know more, but a part of me feared it. Fears that I hadn't even fully acknowledged yet started to creep up like shadows in the corner of my mind.
"How do you know me?" I asked, my voice trembling despite my best effort to sound strong. "How do you know anything about me?"
The man's gaze softened ever so slightly. "I've been waiting for you. I've been watching you, Lena. You've felt it, haven't you? The weight of something not quite right, like the world has shifted out of place, but you can't quite put your finger on it?"
I nodded, the sense of alienation I'd been feeling all day threatening to overwhelm me. It was as if I had been on the outside of my own life, watching it unfold with the aching awareness that nothing was as it seemed.
"You're not the first," the man said, his voice lowering to a near whisper. "There have been others who've walked the same path, who've felt the same pull. But no one has made it this far. No one has seen the truth of the future."
I took a step back, the ground beneath my feet suddenly feeling unstable. "The future?" I echoed, panic rising in my throat. "What future? What are you talking about?"
The man took a step toward me, his movements deliberate, like he knew the exact distance I could bear. "Tomorrow is a cycle, Lena. A loop. And you are at its center. You've already seen what's coming, but you don't yet understand why it's happening. But you will. When the time comes, you will see everything for what it is."
The air in the bookstore grew heavier, thick with the scent of old books and something else—something strange, like the smell of rain right before a storm.
"You need to go," he said suddenly, his voice urgent. "You're running out of time."
I stared at him, disbelief clouding my mind. "What do you mean? What is happening to me?"
Before he could respond, the sound of a door opening and closing echoed through the bookstore. I turned instinctively, seeing my brother standing near the entrance, his expression puzzled as he looked between us.
"Lena? Are you alright?" he called, his voice cutting through the tension in the air.
I blinked, my reality shifting once more. I could feel the edge of the dream creeping back in, the edges of this moment blurring like a half-remembered scene from a forgotten film.
When I turned back to the man, he was gone—vanished as if he had never been there at all. The bookstore was normal again, quiet and unassuming, the gentle rustle of pages the only sound.
I blinked again, unable to comprehend what had just happened.
"Lena?" my brother's voice was closer now, his steps approaching me. "You look like you've seen a ghost."
I swallowed hard, the weight of his words pressing down on me. "Maybe I have."
I couldn't tell him the truth, not yet. I wasn't even sure I understood it myself. But I knew one thing for certain—whatever had happened in the bookstore, whatever was happening to me, was far from over.
And tomorrow? Tomorrow was already waiting.