I walk down the street. I pause in front of an Italian restaurant. I close my eyes and enjoy the music for a moment. I open my eyes and see a woman in one of the window booths. Sylvia. My girlfriend. My hand goes to my pocket and feels the ring inside. I’m going to propose to her tonight.

I enter the restaurant and take the seat across from her.

“Hello.” I say.

“Well, hello, Harold. I was beginning to think you weren’t going to come.” She admits with a shy smile.

I want to say “Yeah, I’m sorry I’m late.” But don’t get the chance. As soon as I start to speak, time stops.

My lips move but no sound escapes. Instead I hear a clacking sound. Almost like a typewriter. But no. More like the backspace key. I always have wondered why that one sounds different from the rest. Then something else happens.

Sylvia’s face, with her shy smile still frozen in place, begins to change. No, her whole body changes. Everything in my vision begins to spiral and it ends up looking like some kind of deranged lollipop. The consciousness of who I am begins to slip away. I feel a new awareness settling over me.

I open my eyes and find myself dressed in a T-shirt and jeans instead of the suit I wore to the restaurant. Wait… What restaurant? I don’t know anymore. It’s like a memory of a memory. A dream of a dream.

“Alan!” That’s my name. My wife is calling to me. My wife? Next thing I know, my daughter practically flies into the room, and into my arms. Wait… My daughter? Yes. Olivia. My daughter. The feel of my daughter in my arms banishes all thoughts of my strange dreams with the conviction that I did nothing but drift off while studying. Soon, my wife, Alyssa enters the room as well.

“Well, aren’t you two dressed up today?” I remark with a smile as I take them both in.

“It’s Auntie’s ninetieth birthday party, remember? We just wanted to come in and say goodbye before heading out. It doesn’t start til one, but I’d like to stop by the store on the way.”

“Well, I’m glad you did.” I say as I give Olivia a kiss on the forehead. I stand and give my wife a kiss on the lips.

“How long will you be gone?”

“Oh, maybe a few hours, give or take. Auntie can’t handle a lot of company, so the party shouldn’t last very long.”

“OK. Call me when you get there so I can wish her happy birthday.”

“That’s sweet of you. I’m sure she’ll love that. I will.”

They leave and I try to get back to work. I’m an English professor, and I need to prepare Monday’s lecture. I can’t focus. I’m once again plagued by the strange dreams I had. Maybe it was something I ate. I decide some fresh air will do me good.

I throw on my hoodie and go for a jog. I get halfway down the street when I hear a sound. I assume somebody nearby is working a jackhammer and I ignore it. Then everything around me freezes in time. I realize that that’s no jackhammer. It’s the backspace key again. I look up and I notice a rift in the sky. Through it, I see a human hand hitting the same button repeatedly.

All of a sudden, it all comes back. The restaurant wasn’t a dream. That was really me. I am Harold. But I am also Alan. How does this make sense? I was about to propose to my girlfriend, as Harold. Yet, I am also married with a daughter as Alan. My vision once more begins to spiral, and I wonder if I’m going back to Sylvia. That would be awkward. Do I tell her about my family before or after I propose?

Instead, I find myself at a public pool. I’m racing toward my nephew, who is holding his sister’s head underwater. I have them for the day while my sister and her husband spend some time together. I reach them and pull my nephew off, and my niece out of the water.

“Hey! What are you doing Uncle Mike? We’re just playing!” So Mike is my name now.

“That didn’t look like playing to me. You were drowning her, Doug.” I turn to my niece, who is now crying. “Are you alright, Annie?” She nods tremulously.

I pull them both out of the water and tell them to dry off and get ready to go. As Doug and I wait outside the women’s locker room, I realize that even though I am now Mike, this time I retain all the memories of both Harold and Alan. And Mike’s memories too. What is this? This is crazy! How is this possible? I am three different people? I still look the same. I proved that much in the mirror just now.

Annie exits the locker room, and I take them both to Ruby’s. Even though I’m still not very happy with my nephew, he still needs to eat. As the waitress begins to take our orders, it starts again. Time stops, and the clacking begins again. This time though, I’m hyper alert and I notice everything around me. I look for the rift in the sky, and I find it. Only this time, it’s bigger. I see a woman typing on a typewriter. She shakes her head and goes for the backspace key just as my vision begins to swirl. Wait… Is there a connection? My vision spirals the moment she presses the button. Does that mean…? Yes. It does. The epiphany hits me with finality. As much as I try to deny it, it’s true. She, whoever she is, is my author. My identity, no, even my existence, hinges on her whim. Whatever she says, or rather, whatever she types, goes. I’m merely a character in her story.

I now find myself in a trench coat, in the rain. I’m in New York. I’m not sure how I know this. Now that I know why I’m here, or rather, who put me here, I’m filled with unease at the fact that my actions are not my own. They are being dictated by someone else. Yet, they feel like my own. As I hide in the late night shadows of a building, I realize it. Even though someone else is writing my story, I still have a consciousness of it. My choices really are my own. I can live my life through my own decisions. Even though I am only a character in a story, and I have an author, strangely, my author still gave me a free will.

I step out from the shadows with conviction. I will use that free will to make good decisions. No matter what this author has planned for me, I will do what I know is right. This is my story now.

Now it’s time to figure out what my author will give to me next.

I smile.

I can’t wait.

Amanda Rose, an Italian-Mexican-Irish mix, was born in Southern California, but from the age of six, she grew up in the wild beauty of Southwestern Alaska. She can often be found drinking insane amounts of coffee, and is always open to recommendations of new books, coffees or teas to try :)