Final Day

'Today is my last day.'

I woke up this morning knowing that fact - somehow - with an absolute certainty. I had just this one day left to live - one full day! By the time the sun rose tomorrow, I would be - no more.

Somewhat distressing, really.

After thinking about it a moment, my first action was to write a will. Just a simple thing, bestowing all that I own (not much, really) to my immediate family. I doubted that it'd be especially strong, legally - I'd no lawyer present, no notary about to confirm its authenticity - but I had no time for such formalities. This was my final day of life! Why waste it on legal fripperies?

(Briefly I considered: Where did this sudden conviction come from? How was I really sure that I would die so soon? It was an uncomfortable line of thought, and I quickly dismissed it.)

So: what next? My mind drifted naturally to the subject of romance - having had no great experience in that arena, it felt natural that I should launch one great attempt upon it in my last day of life. But I considered the matter - and drew back. For there was no-one in my life for whom I felt especially strongly, or suspected to harbor such feelings for me; and what progress I could make upon such a lacking foundation, with just one day in which to work?

I gave up this idea as a bad job, and cast about for others. Perhaps I ought to go to a church, mosque, or synagogue? Pfeh - not my style. Or I could go to the beach? Bit of a foggy morning for that...

Or I could have a delicious breakfast!

Om nom nom nom. Mm. Utterly scrumptious.

Wiping crumbs off my face and out of my beard, I considered what to do next. Again the thought of romance crossed my mind; again I dismissed it. Perhaps I could... go on a long bike ride...?

Was there nothing I could think to do on this, the last day of my life?

I could always confess my hidden homosexual love for my suitemate, -

...that was not my thought.

Interesting. Yes. Very interesting indeed. I - being, frankly, ragingly heterosexual - had a strongly out-of-character thought - that, if unquestioned, would have led to rather dramatic, if personally unpleasant, consequences. This followed on a morning in which I followed a conviction - quite irrational, quite atypical for my persona, but again unquestioned - that, in a person of a more action-oriented bent, might have resulted in quite a lot of drama. Instead, I'd sat around, thinking through the problem carefully - as has ever been my bent. This must have been quite disappointing for the person - yes - the outside force responsible for this...

It seemed crazy to think about it that way. Some outside force - controlling me, manipulating me? Purest science fiction - but the facts seemed undeniable. That queer conviction - even now, difficult to deny - that alien thought, inserted into my skull... someone was playing games with me. Trying to use me for their own personal entertainment. And it was only a moment's effort to figure out who - the one person I knew who would do such a thing.

Triumphant, decisive, I stood from the table at which I had eaten; I cried, "It was you!", and with one finger outstretched, pointed directly at -








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