I was led to my residence by the waning sunlight. The night has slipped past the horizon and it, reluctantly, dragged the perforated cellophane of twilight along to hide the workday sun. After a day of labor and a natural obedience to exhaustion, all are easily encouraged to retire home.As the door sealed society behind me, a silent sigh escaped my chest.

8:52 AM. The clock read.

A long day. It reflected.

With my bags tossed aside and my heavy coat pinned to the wall, I was finally allowed to get my shoes peeled off, unencumbered. The darkness gave trouble to my purpose, but soon my eyes adjusted to the static scenery: a single bedroom accompanied by a stoved and refrigerated kitchen and a half bath (the full bath was situated outside for public use). Nothing of significance placed itself in the living room, but a plastic potted plant sat placidly beside me as my dedicated fingers disarmed the diurnal shoelaces yet again.

Afterwards, my direct journey to the bed was cut short by a persistent call of hunger, which made me pull ajar the refrigerator door as quickly as my body permitted.

Milk, mustard, eggs. . . my stomach clambered for some replenishments, but, just as urgently called, the telephone rang. The concussive noise obstructed the apartment’s silence; against the dark room, the little green light on the vinyl countertop flashed diligently. The ruckus may be a bit too loud for this time of night.

Reluctantly, the call was answered. “Hello?”

A few seconds passed before a static voice broke the quiet sanctum.

“–Henry? Henry.” It seemed in a hurry.

“Yes, hello?”

“Listen to me.” It demanded quite abruptly, for which I was a little taken aback, but I listened.

It continued. “What you are about to do in the next five minutes will change the course of history.”

My eyes glanced around in the darkness. Should I have turned on the lights?

“What are you talking about?” I asked, confused.

“Are you listening to me? We are talking about the entire world, Henry. Your children’s children. Everyone back home and everywhere else.”

“Huh.”

“Henry. Don’t mess this up.”

And a jarring tone immediately followed suit, right before a hard, cold click. The phone had hung up. Silence filled the room as quickly as it had ended.

My mind stood there, dumbfounded.

-=-=-

On the streets below, a couple was walking by. They were hushed, huddled in their own whispered conversations, and, by the sound of their quick footsteps, they were probably homebound. Each stride of their shoes met the dimly lit sidewalks with a resounding loud clap. No one else seemed to accompany the trailing applause below my window. The town was, for the most part, unfortunately, asleep.

How much time has passed?

I looked at the clock: 1:56 AM.

When did I get that call?

I looked about the room. Although in darkness, the moonlight shone adequately through the open windows and drew bright, distinct edges around the sparse furniture. The room was the same as before, barely the description of well kept but rather in a style of orderly chaos. The basket of dirty clothes still resided in the far corner of my closet, just where I have forgotten it for the past few days. The loose sheets of notes and doodles still litter my wooden desk (or at least I believed it was wood). All was as expected.

1:56– 7. 1:57 AM

What could they mean? Did I forget something? What do they need?

Still nothing happened. What would they do?

The telephone rang. I picked it up and answered. “Who are you?”

“What? Sorry, I am looking for Teresa?” it said.

“There’s no one here by that name.”

“Oh,” it replied, dejectedly, “sorry to bother you.”

“Sorry, but can I ask you a question?”

It hesitated before replying, “Sure.”

“What would you do if you were told you were going to change your life in five minutes?”

“Five minutes? Heh, I’d go buy a chance at the lottery. That’ll change everything, wouldn’t it?”

“Yea. It would. Thanks.”

“Sure.” And it left.

I grabbed my coat, reapplied my shoes, and headed down the block to the nearest convenience store. It was the only building that remained opened during the escalating rainstorm and it’s lonely fluorescent light cascades onto the streets in front. I entered the store. Surely, barely a handful of seconds have passed.

I told the cashier that I wanted to buy a lottery ticket. They didn’t have any. What about scratchers? I bought that instead.

I scratched it. And, to my dismay, it revealed I did not win.

I laughed.

God sure is humorous. I could imagine Him above, chuckling away, stomping his feet and clutching his stomach. His bellowing cries carried through the night in thunderous waves.

Perhaps I was pranked into playing a cruel mind game. Perhaps they got the wrong number. It may even be the case that I was never meant to pick up that phone. Maybe, the act of knowing I was going to change something, prohibited me from doing so. What could happen in five minutes anyways? At nearly two in the morning?

I went back to bed, but I was unable to sleep.

I checked the time.

1:59 AM– but a few seconds away from the hour. I reasoned it was all meaningless. Nothing could possibly happen in two seconds worth my time.

And so, with all new awareness and heightened consciousness, I, by my soul and flesh, commanded and commissioned an escape of bodily wind.