The Person From The Future

A daily paper

Blinding headaches are the first thing that fill my mind when I wake up, gasping for air. Cold sweat sticks to the skin of my neck, my chest, my arms, the sheets. My breathing is heavy and I swallow past the lump that had formed in my throat. My hand moves slowly, raking itself through the mess of hair on my head, loosening it from where it had been stuck to my face. A glance at the clock tells me it's Saturday, the fourth of July, a little past three in the morning. Blinking a couple of times, my eyes get used to the darkness in my room. Static was audible from the open window. The noise of distant traffic, passing cars and incidentally blaring sirens filled the four walls around me instead of the usual silence.

With heavy steps, my feet bring me to stand in front of the open window. The cool night air that slips in blows against my bare arms. Goosebumps form, but I don't shiver. It's not that cold. The streets are empty, cars are parked neatly in the driveways; a streetlight above the road is flickering every so often. I sit down in my desk chair, resting my chin and arms on the windowsill, not removing my eyes from the calmness outside.

It's only after five in the morning that the first early birds wake up. Lights turn on in bedrooms in time with the changing colors of the sky above. And as it turns brighter, it turns warmer. More and more lights turn on. People walk in and out of their houses, to drive to work in their cars or put out bags of trash. The empty streets I saw a couple of hours ago aren't empty anymore. The static is replaced by talking neighbors, barking dogs and ringing bicycle bells.

I still remained in the same position. Arms crossed under my chin, looking outside while sitting with my back bent in a somewhat uncomfortable hunch on my desk chair.

The noise was getting disturbing. It became too loud, too much. Not resembling the static from before in the slightest. I preferred the static.

I stood up my hand already moving to close the window, to mute every sound my ears did not want to hear, but it stopped just when I gripped the handle. Someone different delivered the mail today. They didn't throw the daily papers lazily on the driveways, but instead they placed them neatly in the mailboxes.

I didn't recognize the mail carrier, even though they tagged a very obnoxious old, red bicycle, probably covered with rust, along with them. I had never seen the bicycle nor the person before. Still, they waved with a gentle smile. They waved holding a folded daily paper while looking up from across the road. Up towards me.

My hand jolted awake, slamming the window closed a lot harder than I had wanted to, and along with the other, pulled the dark curtains shut. I dropped back down in the desk chair, turning away from the window. The now dimmed light from outside shone through the curtains, filling the room in soft hues. I hadn't waved back.