• I saw the winning lottery numbers in the light shining off of a pickle jar.

    I saved a kid from being hit by a bus. I was watching Futurama, and when there was a sequence with "Hypnotoad," I was lulled into a trance. As I awoke from this trance, I found that I had the precise date and time of some kid's violent death. I stopped it.

    I could tell my friends the dates for all of Mr. Matson's pop quizzes when I was in high school. The only catch was that I had to fold a paper in half three times first.

    Maybe I don't see the future in the most conventional way, or maybe, as my wife believes, I don't see the future at all. Whatever I do, though, I know I can change whatever needs to be changed.

    --


    "Honey?"

    I'm falling, falling through something, somewhere, all I can feel is the falling, the fleeting sensation of air rushing up around me, and then the ground coming to meet me. It's me this time, not someone else, splat against the hard concrete, bones broken, blood everywhere, no pulse, no heartbeat, no thump-thump. My mind rushes to cover up for this, I'm hallucinating, I'm dreaming, but no. I'm so scared I can't think straight, no I can't think, can't... think...

    "Honey! What's wrong! Oh. My. God, John, you've... you've wet yourself!"

    Indeed I have. My concentration returns in a flash. My surroundings become clear once again. My wife is looking at me with a mixture of anguish and worry. Embarrassed, perhaps, to be with this crazy man. I become acutely aware of the warmth that really shouldn't be between my legs, as well as the other shoppers staring at me, and at... it. I can tell that I'm blushing, I can feel the heat in my face.

    Oh my god, the heat in my, between my, oh god. The embarrassment is only catching up to me now. This feeling is indescribable, and I my heart plummets. I thought that this kind of shame wouldn't follow me after high school. I didn't count on pissing myself in the middle of Albertsons, either.

    Without even putting down the can of tinned meat in my hand, I leave the store. The sound of theft alarms follows me to the car, echoing through my head. I open one of the four doors to my obnoxiously large, obnoxiously red truck.

    Behind the steering wheel, I take solace in the familiarity of the layout and equipment.

    The shame hardly matters, I realize, if I'm about to die. I remember the vision so clearly. It's almost as if it has been recorded on a tivo in my memory. Unfortunately, this is one tivo I can't turn off. I hear my own scream reverberating through my ears. I can almost, almost feel the pain as my body hits the ground. If only I could turn these sensations off.

    Suddenly, the crystal veil of thoughts surrounding me is shattered by the metallic crash of the car door slamming shut. I look over to find my wife sitting next to me.

    "Just drive." she commands. I obey, only because I feel that not following her instructions would probably put an end to my life prematurely. "WHAT was that all about?" she's practically screaming now. I keep my eyes focused on the road. "You know how EMBARASSING that was for me? Do you even UNDERSTAND what I had to go through to make sure they didn't follow you to the car and arrest you for SHOPLIFTING? I'm sorry, it must be impossible to contemplate for someone with the mind of a SIX YEAR OLD! Because, John, who besides a six year old would PISS THEMSELVES in the middle of a GROCERIE STORE? I am SO ANGRY right now, I doubt you even understand!"

    "But, hone-"

    "Honey my a**. John, don't make excuses for yourself. Take me home. Now."

    "Bu-"

    "NO BUTS! Shut up and drive."

    Would I be wrong to feel that I'm being treated unfairly? I mean, I sort of understand, but wouldn't it be more embarrassing for me and not her? Even so, I love her too much to even disobey her instructions. When we reach the house, she storms inside, making sure to slam every visible door. I stay behind, laying my head on the steering wheel. She will never believe me. She doesn't believe in my visions.

    Knowing that avoiding my problems is no way to solve them, I open the truck door. Before I enter the house, I stop at the front of the truck. I pat it twice, just so it knows that it wasn't at fault for today's events. Julie treated it so badly...

    I realize that I'm practically talking to a truck. Shaking my head, I slowly march to the door, or perhaps to the gallows, I can't tell anymore if there's a difference.

    Opening the door slowly, I find Julie waiting for me, leaning against the kitchen cabinet with her head in her hands.

    “I’m sorry, John. I’m not giving you a fair chance. What happened, exactly? Really, I’m sorry, now that my anger has dissipated… I’m just left with guilt. I was horrible.” she moaned.

    “It’s fine, J, but can I just go and change my pants before we get into some long discussion?” I ask, with a smile teasing the corners of my lips. She waves me on, and I head to the bedroom. I pull on fresh pairs of boxers and jeans, as well as washing myself off in the sink.

    My heart is beating faster. With Julie, I think I can get through this. I can change my future. I turn off the bedroom lights as I leave.

    Suddenly, movement in the corner of the darkened room catches my eye. I turn just in time to see a cat, pale as moonlight, jump up onto our dresser and, to my amazement, fade away. I rub my eyes, but the cat is still gone and I am still positive that the ghostly vision was just that. A ghost.

    I run out of the room and down the hall. “Honey!” I screech, praying that Julie won’t think I’m insane. “I just saw something incredible!”

    Julie stares at me for a second. She’s probably surprised by my sudden change of attitude, but I don’t care, this is too amazing to keep to myself. “”Honey, I think I just saw a ghost!”

    “Um, John, are you feeling okay?”

    “No, seriously! It was a white cat, and it hopped onto our dresser and then faded away! I swear to god! I’m not crazy… I’m… not…”

    “So is that what all that in the store was about? Did you see another ghost? Have another vision? John! Wake up! You’re not psychic! These things simply don’t exist.”

    My heart drops. I know she won’t understand. I look to the ground and mumble something unintelligible.

    ”What was that?”

    “I said that you’re probably right. I was just jumping to conclusions again. Come here for a second.” She looks at me, confusion in her eyes, but she steps forward, towards me. In one swift movement, I grab her hand lightly and bring her close to me in a tight hug. For a second, she is unresponsive, but it isn’t long before she is clinging to me as well.

    “John,” she whispers, “sometimes I just can’t take all of these things you say… sometimes I worry that you’re… crazy…”

    I pull her chin up, so she’s looking into my eyes. “It’s okay. If it freaks you out, I won’t talk about it anymore. I love you so much.”

    I lace my fingers in between hers, and stoop slightly, first brushing my lips against hers, then kissing her deeply, trying to make her understand how much I care about her. Trying to pour my very soul into hers.


    --


    I wake up screaming, feeling salty sweat clinging to my palms. The vision has come to me again, and every detail is the same. The fall, the sickening crunch of my bones, everything.

    By some crazy twist of fate, Julie is still snoring softly beside me. Even a scream can’t bring her back from that deep sleep she falls into every night. I sit up in bed, thinking that perhaps a glass of water would do me good. I swing my legs over the side of the bed and stand, maybe a little too quickly, because I feel lightheaded.

    To my surprise, in the doorway, I find the milky white cat staring up at me. I stop in my tracks, not wanting to scare it away. It begins to trot down the hallway, easy as can be, and stops about halfway, looking back at me. I think it wants me to follow.

    I oblige, and follow as it dissolves through the door. In the cool night air, the cat seems more opaque, almost like a real cat. However, the wisps of smoke beneath his feet betray his true nature.

    I look at my bare feet, and realize that I’m wearing nothing but the boxers I put on earlier. I can follow the cat no further, tonight at least. I turn, walking back through the still open door, and enter the kitchen. I pour a glass of water and return to bed.

    --

    As I awake for the second time this morning, the first thing I notice is that Julie is already out of bed. I pull myself up, sitting cross legged, but I don’t feel like doing anything. I feel like sleeping all day, like never moving again.

    If I’m going to die anyway… why bother going to work?

    --

    A week passes quickly, like a flash. Every day I slept in until noon, and spent the rest of the day doing basically nothing. Maybe, if I never leave the house, I won’t die.

    Julie doesn’t seem to mind too much, though she looks at my dirty clothes on the floor and unshaven face and sighs. Maybe she is more accepting than she is letting on.

    Every night, I dream about dying. Every night, I see the cat in the doorway. Every night, I ignore both of these things. As I said, if I don’t leave, I can’t die.

    However, I’m starting to realize that this is barely a life at all. Maybe it would be better just to die. My conversations with Julie are becoming few and far between. Though she doesn’t criticize my new lifestyle, she is giving me the cold shoulder more and more often…

    --

    I was fired from work on Tuesday. Nothing has changed.

    --

    I’m slowly beginning to realize that this is no life at all. This is a living hell, one step from a slow and painful death. I want to end this waiting.

    Two days ago, Julie left me. She said that she can’t stand to see me slipping away like this, and that after careful thought, she realized that she never loved me anyway. I still love her so much. I can’t handle this anymore.

    --

    I climb the stairs one at a time. There are no windows in this vortex of memory and pain, this pathway leading up to hell, this… this salvation. My breathing has no rhythm, no beat, no pattern. Three more stairs to the final landing. A plain wooden door, light in its construction and seemingly fragile. A faded exit sign hangs loosely just below a tiny window.

    I glance backwards, this is my last chance to back out, my last chance to live. I feel something brush against my legs and see the flickering of a tail fading through the door. I push it open against the wind. My hair whips around my face and I walk to the edge of the roof.

    The apartment building I chose was nothing fancy, but anything less modest would do nothing to compliment such an empty end to such an empty life.

    I turn my back to the ground and look to the sky, my feet perched precariously on the edge of the roof. My heels are hanging off of the ledge.

    The cat stares up at me, mocking my choice, mocking my feeble attempt at closure, at happiness. I breathe in deeply, one final rush of oxygen, and fall backwards, arms spread out like wings.

    All I can feel is the falling, the fleeting sensation of air rushing up around me, and I realize that I had the chance to prevent all of this. If only I could go back… do things over… I could have changed my future.

    My bones crunch against the pavement.

    Everything is black.