The Decameron 2.0

Day 9.7 Coincidence - UNUS MUNDUS Red_Harvey

The youngest person in the room, shuffled her feet against the floor and raised her hand. "My turn?" she asked, politely. The older folk exchanged charitable grins and nodded.

~ ~ ~

You never think you'll see the end of the universe.

Until you do.

The bright yawn of light stretches, reminding you that your role is infinitesimal, and everyone you've ever loved is dead, long dead, but you watch anyway.

I hadn't eaten in days. It had been longer since I'd seen another person, and I never would again.

But I'm jumping ahead. Or back.

I once lived a normal life in a normal town. My brother Harrison had researched causality for years. We couldn't agree on a single damn thing, and debate spurred us on. He was sure that everything happened independently, and I was sure that coincidence was provable, via synchronicity.

Too romantic, he insisted, while I countered that it hadn't been disproved.

"Time leads to eventuality," I told him.

"No, statistics account for everything," he said.

I flipped my hair, as I did every time I had a bomb answer. "Random events converge into a causal nexus."

He groaned, burying his face in his hands. A lack of expertise did little to quell my dissent.

My journey began after being trapped, and I was lucky to escape alive.

On Fridays, the school department heads met up, all ten of them. Thanks to my meddling, Harrison and I left with hours to spend.

Like the free people we were, we clomped along the sidewalk, in search of the car. We seemed drunk, and I felt it. Although, I knew Harrison was just pissed.

He nudged me. "Crippling diarrhea, eh?"

In fumbling for the car keys, I nearly tripped. What was up with my sense of walking, like, straight?

"Hey, it worked. Those fools can have their damn meetings without you." I paused to think. "I didn't get you in trouble, did I?"

"Not nearly enough, no." He grinned, my flub-up quickly forgiven.

Oh yeah, did I not mention? I was an English tutor, so not exactly physics department material. Still, I'd gleamed surfacey info from my brother and father, enough to counter some of their bullshit. Carl Yung and Arthur Koestler were my favorites, much to their embarrassment.

Even as most of what my brother's job went over my head, I adored him, and he adored me.

"You alright?" He held my arm, steadying me.

I shrugged. "Just not feelin' too hot."

"Then let's get home. I've got a paper to finish anyway."

Our footfalls echoed on the damp pavement. The road was clear, a ribbon of black against the dark sky. One minute, there was no one on the sidewalk with us, and the next, a foot stuck out, and I tripped for reals this time, sprawling on the floor.

I caught myself on my right knee, which was a bad idea. Red-hot pokers slammed my leg, and for a moment, I thought dying might be better than the pain. My breath eeked out slow and steady, mostly 'cause I was trying to hold back tears. Across the street, I noticed a mattress store, Jay's Lays. The butthead responsible was sittin' pretty in dingy clothes, a worn cap, and black boots.