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Unknown Binding
First published January 5, 2018
I passed a younger version of myself on the way to work this morning. I was eleven years old.
"Wow," I said.
"I wish I was more self-confident back then," I replied.
"I wish I turned out differently."
"I had such low self-esteem."
"And I had such high hopes."
I went to work feeling absolutely miserable, but I went to school feeling even worse.
I wouldn’t say I was a nihilist; it’s just that I thought the world was meaningless and our lives were utterly pointless.
"Who the hell are you?" Jules Verne demanded.
We all turned toward the Frenchman, who’d somehow appeared in the tunnel beside us.
"Zhang Heng," Zhang Heng said.
"Edmund Halley," Edmund Halley said.
"Jason Rolfe," I said.
"Two of you are famous enough to be familiar to me," Jules Verne said. "But you sir," he said to Edmund Halley. "I’ve never heard of you before in all my life."
I lost my mind this morning. I’m frustrated because I always leave it in the old wooden bowl by the door. The second I step in the house I drop my wallet, my car keys, my watch and my mind in that bowl. I always do, because if I don’t I’m bound to lose them. It’s become such a habit that on those rare occasions when I do forget, I assume that’s where they are, which makes it even harder to remember where I’ve actually left them. Once, for example, I found my car keys in the freezer, my watch in the clothes hamper, my wallet in the lint trap on our dryer and my mind beneath the cushions of our comfy basement couch. It should go without saying that I haven’t searched any of those places today. Having lost my mind I’m not exactly thinking straight.