The Morning After

A short story with the words 'I don't believe in that stuff'

I sighed deeply.

My wife looked at me with some concern.

“You shouldn’t be eating so much at night,” she cooed as a mother hen would to a wayward chicken.

I realized she had misunderstood my attempt at drawing her attention.

“The sigh was one of profound annoyance, not of indigestion,” I responded with a hurt air.

She shrugged her shoulder and went back to her infernal TV show.

Keen observers of the goings on thus far would have detected that everything was no hunky dory with me. These keen observers would be right.

The morning had commenced like most mornings; bright sunshine, rushing the kids off to school, feeding the dogs and such.

As we both worked from home, we enjoyed an hour of peace after the household had settled after the blitzkrieg of the early hours.

However, today, as I mentioned before, all was not right. Something gnawed at the back of my mind. There was a feeling that I had been wronged in some fashion, but I couldn’t place my finger on what caused this said feeling.

I remember sliding into the warm coziness of the bed last night and sleeping fitfully. The morning brought about this marked change in my demeanor. Mind you, this wasn’t normal for me. Being a morning person, I am a ray of sunshine when the dawn breaks and the cup filleth over and all that.

“Did anything happen last night?” I enquired of the spouse who was sipping tea in utter nonchalance, eyes glued to the screen.

“I just want to watch the Oscars in peace,” was the helpful retort.

There was no help coming from this quarter. I stood up and walked towards the front door. The feeling had not left me. I ventured to the gate that overlooked a busy street. Everything seemed normal, and yet, I could not shake the thought of something gone awry.

As I contemplated my emotions, a man appeared in front of me. I say ‘appeared’ in the true sense because, one moment, he was not there and the next moment he was. I brushed aside the manifestation blaming it on my distracted mind.

He was tall, like a reed that had somehow forgotten to stop its skyward ascension. He wore an odd attire. A long black coat, going past his knees was accompanied by a black felt hat. I could see his piercing eyes from beneath the shadow of his tasteful headgear. In the middle of a small city in south India, to say he looked out of place would not be stretching it.

“Good morning Raman,” he intoned in a voice that emanated from the roots of the reed.

I balked. How did he know my name? And what was it with the easy familiarity reserved for the inner circle of near and dear ones?

“Hmm? Who are you?”

“I wanted to see how you were doing.”

I did not appreciate the patronizing nature of his voice nor his uncalled-for concern about my wellbeing.

“Who are you? I don’t want any car loan or insurance scheme, please!”

He smiled. I wished he hadn’t. It was unlike anything I had seen. His lips split open like a can of garbanzo beans to reveal unsightly teeth.

“I am here to check on you.”

He had obviously missed the hostility in my previous response, so I tried again.

“Look, sir. I am having a bad morning. Please move on.”

He brushed aside my protest.

“Do you believe in parallel universes?”

The question was as weird as they come. I must have resembled a guppy for a second and I’m sure I must have said something, but I don’t know what. I realized then, he had escaped from an institution where they treat such intellectual disorders.

He repeated his question adding if I thought it was possible for identical people to exist in different universes.

I had had enough of this drivel.

“You are obviously not well,” I interjected with a kind tone hoping he was not the violent sort.

“I don’t believe in that stuff.”

He smiled again. I wished he would stop.

“Well, it’s time to believe in it,” he said condescendingly.

By now, I was eyeing the open front door and making rapid calculations on how I could disengage and disappear into the safe confines of the home.

His next words stopped my escape plans in its tracks.

“You must have woken up with an odd feeling today. Like something was not right and maybe you were upset too.”

“How…how do you know this?”

The impassive face now took on an unholy gleam.

“We have been conducting research in this area for many eons. This is the first time we have successfully exchanged people between the universes.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” I shouted in some fear.

“You, Raman, are not on the planet you were born in. In fact, you are not even in the same universe!”