The sky was radiant blue and waves were lapping on the shore. The warmth of the sun touched his face. He could see boats and dolphins.
Beautiful. He was content.
The warden slid open the hatch and looked in on the prisoner. He looked happy; the meds had kicked in.
I picked my son up.
As I drove home, I peered at him. He looked like my son but he smelled different, talked different, and his smile was so wrong.
As we sat at traffic lights, I received a text: Dad, where are you?
That was how the world ended.
My old business lecturer at Harvard always used to say, “If you can dream it, you can do it.”
Hauntingly ironic really. Last night I dreamed I murdered her.
The body is now in the trunk of my car. I will wait until it’s past midnight, then dispose of it.
It was my lifetime’s work, but tonight I finally understood the folly of it all.
My invention didn’t work.
Jumping into the river, I realized my error. As I went down for the third and final time, my whole life flashed before my eyes. I had found my time machine.