The man who couldn't stop thinking

Introduction: ahead of time

He had always liked the smell of rain, so on those days he used to take the car to go out, aimlessly reflecting on what had happened to him. Time passed, but the memory was getting sharper and sharper in his memory. It seemed that nothing could erase that event there, but today was different. The rain beat relentlessly on the road, but Oliver had not gone out to think that day; he had a direction.

The exact moment you really understand yourself is the moment everything changes, Lewis Nary used to repeat this in his university lectures. He had been teaching physics for more than a decade but had only recently gotten the position he had always wanted. He was thrilled with what teaching had given him. Every day was a day lost without teaching. That day was different, he opened his eyes hearing the sound of the alarm clock coming from his cell phone. He was a messy guy, he could never set himself habits to stick to, he often joked about this quirky trait of his "to me habits are like electrons, they only change position if you observe them," he would tell himself.

Lewis was a quirky guy, certainly not your typical college professor. That morning he couldn't wake up; what had happened the previous evening put a strange agitation on him. He looked around, searching for a reason to get up and continue conducting his day in an ordinary way. But nothing was as usual. He got out of bed, with great difficulty, even before he got dressed he took a cigarette from his pants pocket on the floor and lit it. It was perhaps the only habit he continued to have. Every morning he used to smoke before doing anything. That day, however, he put out his cigarette after only three puffs; someone knocked on his door. Immediately he dressed, afraid that someone might be looking for him because of what had happened. He heard the knock again, he looked through the peephole to verify the identity of that person, it was Oliver. Darkness.

Lewis Nary woke up. Time had passed so quickly, he had not noticed anything, it was after ten o'clock and he, as usual was distinctly late. Getting up, he noticed that he could find neither his cigarettes nor his jeans, he looked around thinking he was in a dream: that was not his home.