August 2, 2013
There's this theory.
The theory of the multiverse where there's an infinite amount of universes filled with different possibilities and hypotheticals.
I never thought of it as something important. It was something I found mildly fascinating until the faithful day I died and all the what-ifs came back to me.
It started like a normal Saturday. I kissed Josephine good-bye and headed off to the bus stop for work. I smiled politely at the lady who ran the falafel stand and ordered a flat white along the way.
Normal.
I got to the bus stop and waited exactly three minutes and twenty-eight seconds. The bus stopped, I hopped on and shot a polite smile to Doris, an elderly women who boarded the same bus everyday. Most of the seats were taken so I clambered past and sat in the seventh row. Window seat.
Even my grip on my brief case had become a routine. My fingers curled around the handle, not too loose or too tight while it sat on my lap just like it always did.
We had gotten past three stops and I still didn't have the inkling that something terrible was going to happen. Maybe it's what I get for being born a man. You don't ever hear anyone talk about men's intuition. I can only blame my father and his damn chromosomes.
Two stops away from my office building, we got into a heavy road block. I tapped my foot impatiently, repeatedly glancing at my wrist-watch, praying that I wouldn't be late again.
I should've got the earlier bus, I thought.
A sigh of relief escaped my throat when we began to pick up the speed. I got to my stop and got off. Normal.
Normal, normal, normal.
I got ready to the cross the street. The digital man flashed green and I straightened my tie which I had got recently from my mom. I always had a feeling my boss didn't like me by the haughty way he looked at my attire.
Then, I began strolling down the street, whistling a catchy tune that Josephine was humming as she cooked my waffles.
That was when a silver car collided into me.
I don't really know what happened. I don't really remember. But I had been able to feel myself thrashing wildly as I rolled across the top of the car. I recall my briefcase slipping out of my grip, my flat white splaying across the asphalt.
And as I lay there, loud sounds resonating in my ear, one by one, my what-ifs began to be answered.
* * * *
a/n
as who killed roger rabbit is under serious editing, i decided to upload this short story. this one had no initial planning what-so-ever and honestly i'm using it as a writing outlet. but once i wrap everything up with my other works, i will begin to take this more seriously and turn it into a full-lengthed novel.
love you!
