Sid's Muse

Dear Steve,

I am sending you this email to let you know that I have indeed received your emails and texts and phone calls reminding me of my impending deadline. You have been my trusted publisher for years and I assure you that I will have a draft of what I am working on sent to you on time. This predicament I find myself in, however, may affect the length of said draft so if it seems uncharacteristically shorter than usual then it is only in the interest in meeting the deadline. After all, I wouldn’t want you to worry about the relationship I have with my muse.

Always,

Sid

“Muriel!” Sid yelled as he dragged his eyes from the computer monitor, “Are you around?”

“Just got in, sweetie!” Muriel responded as she swung open the front door.

Sid ran down the stairs and took her bags and placed them on the floor.

“Oh my!” she said surprised by the writer’s new found energy. “What has gotten into you?”

“My deadline,” he answered, “I just told Steve I would have a draft sent to him by the deadline which is fast approaching. It’s just a few more days!”

“And?”

“And?! What do you mean ‘and?’” Sid said, his eyes wide and his shoulders slumped. “You’re a muse! I thought you’re here to inspire me!”

“My dear sweet Sid,” she said. Her voice was soft and sweet with just a touch of flirtatious air about it. She wrapped her arms around Sid’s neck and looked him right in the eyes, their noses just an inch apart from each other. “You’re a talented enough writer to get a draft to Steve, surely. I mean I’m not meant to stay with you forever. That’s not what muses do.”

“Haven’t I spoiled you enough already? You use my credit cards, I take you out to dinner and dancing, you practically live here. It’s gotten to the point where half the neighborhood thinks we’re married!”

“Oh, bless!” Muriel smiled a sardonic smile. “But I thought you enjoyed my company, sweetheart.”

“I do,” Sid said melting away and falling back on to the sofa. “I really do but it’s frustrating living with a muse and not having any inspiration, especially when that inspiration pays for the roof over my head.”

“Oh, I know,” Muriel said in a patronizing town as she ruffled his hair. “Poor thing. How about you take me to dinner? It’ll be just the thing you need. You’ll have a clear head, a full stomach, and I’ll get to show off this lovely dress I bought today”

Muriel pulled an elegant dress out of one of the many bags Sid put on the floor just a few moments earlier and draped it in front of her, dancing about Sid. She somehow managed to find a smile somewhere on Sid’s worrisome face.

“Okay, dinner,” Sid answered finally, “And then you have to help me.”

Muriel looked at Sid and sat on his lap, tilting her head to one side and smiling softly as she looked deep into his eyes.

“Ok fine,” Sid answered, “Dinner and dancing. But then—”

“Straight home to write, I know,” Muriel leaned in and kissed Sid on the cheek, “This is why I stay with you. You just get me.” She took her bags upstairs and Sid could hear her humming some nondescript song. The ceiling creaked and Sid knew she was dancing to the tune as she put her new wardrobe away into the closet.

“Steve better get used to these short stories,” Sid thought to himself, “I love Muriel and everything but at this rate I’m never getting that novel done.”

The Last Visit

“Daddy?” Kayla yelled into the receiver.

“Yes, baby?”

“Can you hear me?” She took the receiver off her ear and droned into it like a microphone.

“I can hear you just fine, baby,” Jake said, laughing.

“Kayla, sweetheart, don’t put that on your mouth,” Mandy said as she pulled the receiver away from her daughter’s mouth.

“When are you coming back home?” Kayla asked.

“Soon, baby. Real soon,” Jake answered with a lump in his throat tugging at the receiver’s cord hoping it would distract him from shedding a single tear.

“Junior made you something, daddy,” Kayla said. “But he’s not here. He’s sick so he’s with Grammy and Papa.”

“That’s ok, sweetheart. How are you? Are you doing good at school?” Jake asked, twisting the cord between his fingers.

“Um,” Kayla hesitated. She was distracted by the sound of footsteps behind her. “Yeah I like school.”

“You do? You didn’t get that me from me, I can tell you that. But your mama’s real smart. You make a lot of friends there?”

“Yeah. I have a lot of friends. Mommy says that it’s ok if I can go to Johnny’s birthday party. Is that true? I can go, daddy?”

“Of course you can, baby. If your mom says it’s ok then it’s ok with me.”

“Daddy?”

“Yes, baby?” Jake was smiling now. He knew by the tone of his daughter’s voice what she was going to say next. It was always the same and it killed him every time she said it.

“I don’t know what else to talk about.”

“That’s ok, baby,” Jake reassured Kayla. “How about you give the phone to your mama?”

Kayla lifted the receiver over her head to her mother who took it and told the young girl to stay still.

“What is it, Jake?”

“I miss you.”

“You say that every time.”

“I know but,” Jake was never good with words especially when they mattered. “I told Kayla I might be coming home soon.”

“Do you know that for sure? Because you know what happened when you promised her you’d be coming home and you never did. If you saw her face when we told her that you weren’t coming home—Just don’t make promises like that; not to her.”

“That’ wasn’t my fault and you know it,” Jake said, “I told you--”

“It’s never your fault.”

“Look,” Jake said, “I don’t want to fight. I hate it when we fight. But I’m trying my best to be home soon. But you don’t know what it’s like here.”

“Junior is starting to look more like you every day,” Mandy mentioned.

“So he’s a handsome boy, is he?”

“I hope you do come home soon.”

“That means a lot coming from you,” Jake played with the cord again, “It really does.”

“It’d be good for the kids to see their daddy in person before they get too old.”

“Do you think they’ll forget about me?”

“I don’t hate you enough to let your own children forget you. It’s just better with you physically with them is all I’m saying.”

“I’m trying to get home as soon as I can. I’m doing my best, I swear.”

“I know you are. I could always tell when you’re serious about something.”

“I’m serious,” Jake answered. “I’m coming home. And once I get there I’m staying there. I can take care of Kayla. I can take care of Junior. I can take care of—”

“I’m with someone else.”

Jake wasn’t sure he had heard Mandy correctly.

“We only started going out about a month ago,” Mandy continued, “I don’t even know if it’s going to go anywhere to be honest. It’s just… It’s just—”

“No,” Jake said letting go of the cord. “Don’t worry about it. I get it. I get lonely too. I totally understand. I mean I’d be lying if I said I didn’t expect—Look, I still intend on coming home and taking care of my children. You understand that, right? You can go on with your life and I’ll start a new one on my own but I want to be part of Kayla and Junior’s life.”

“Yeah,” Mandy answered.

“Mommy,” Kayla said tugging on her mother’s skirt.

“Oh, I guess it’s time to go, Jake,” Mandy said. She picked up Kayla and put the receiver to her ear and said, “Say goodbye to daddy.”

“Bye daddy!” Kayla said smiling to both her parents. She leaned over and kissed her hand pressing her hand against the glass. Jake kissed his hand and pressed it against the glass. Kayla loved seeing how small her hand was compared to her daddy’s. “I can’t wait to see you again!”

“I love you, baby,” Jake said tugging the cord hard but trying not to show anyone. Mandy took the receiver and wanted to tug the cord too but her hands were full as she was carrying Kayla now. “I love you. And I swear this will be the last visit you make here.”

“I know,” Mandy said. On the way back to the parking lot, Kayla fell asleep in Mandy’s arms and Mandy smiled to herself knowing that that would be the last visit that her or her children would have to make.

Anomaly

August 15: Memory Access Neural Interface Headquarters

Blip. Blip. Worble. That would be the last thing that Collins would hear from Manitou. Under any other circumstances these sounds would be considered normal coming from the Memory Accessible Neural Interface 2.0 (or “Manitou” for short). A blip there and a worble there is usually to be expected from a super computer but it is the rhythm in which it made itself known that was unusual to Collins. It is almost as if it were saying something that it had never said before, or could.

“Let’s go Collins!” His colleague, Schwartz, yelled. “Time to clock out! I’m not letting you work overtime on your last day.” There was a knock on the door and older man walked in. It was the Chief Engineer, Teague.

“He’s right. Time to finally buy you a drink,” Teague responded.

“Yeah, it’s just--” Collins said.

“Just what? It’s your last day, man! Time to celebrate a new chapter in your life.”

“Well there was a thing. I heard a thing. It was a bit unusual,” Collins muttered.

“Was it anomalous?” Teague asked.

“I’m not sure.” Collins responded.

“What did it sound like?” Schwartz said putting on his jacket. He was clearly eager to make his way to the bar.

“It went, ‘Blip. Blip. Worble.’” Collins answered. “I know it doesn’t sound like much but it was the way it happened. There was a deliberate rhythm, a cadence to it unlike the other sounds Manitou makes.”

“You’re just thinking too much. What’s the matter? Trying to find an excuse to stay here with us grunts longer?” Schwartz joked.

“Thinking too much is what got Collins out of here. When he gets his PhD he might very well be back here and we might just be working for him!” Teague said slapping his hand on Collins’ back. “What was it you were going to be studying again?”

“Neuroscience: The neurological effects of physical interface between computers and the human brain,” Collins answered.

“Wait a minute. Are you saying the brain can influence computers?” Schwartz asked.

“I think it’s possible. Manitou exists to influence our brains, maybe it’s a two-way street and we haven’t figured out how to do it.” Collins responded.

“That’s why he’s headed back to school, Schwartz, and that’s why you’re stuck here. Ha!”Teague said.

“Give me a desk in an office over a desk in a classroom any day, I say! Now what do we say? Shall we go off to the bar to give Collins his final hurrah?” Schwartz said, already heading out the door.

“Looks like Schwartz is ready for a night of drinking. Let’s go,” Teague said.

“Sure,” Collins said as he typed furiously into his computer. With one final keystroke, he lifted his hands and went to get his coat. “I just had to make a note of that sound pattern.”

“I’ll tell you what,” Teague responded. “Personally I think it wasn’t a significant anomaly but if it means that much to you I’ll keep a record of it. If it turns out to be nothing we can, at the very least, chalk it up to your very last entry with Manitou.”

“Sounds like a fine idea,” Collins said. Teague put his arm on Collins’ shoulder and the two walked to the bar to celebrate his last day at the office.

August 22: Swansea, Wales

Mr. Williams got only a slammed door as a response from his daughter, Mariah.

“The two of you need to cool down a bit,” his wife said.

“The two of us?” he asked. “It’s unnatural and you know it!”

“Be a little sympathetic. They cared for each other.”

“No they didn’t. They didn’t even know about each other until two days ago!”

“They’ve known each other for almost a year through Manitou.”

“That computer was meant to help with her depression. You heard what the scientists said. That computer just rewires the brain. They never made a connection!”

“Then how do you explain their first meeting? You know they made a connection. You saw them yourself! I think they genuinely care for each other!”

“They felt similar things while they were plugged in. Teen hormones accomplished the rest! It’s just like the psychologist said. There was some sort of anomaly that they both happen to have felt at around the same time, and when they met for the first time they—I don’t have to explain my stance. It’s already been said dozens of times by the experts.”

“Don’t you like this Santos boy?”

“It’s not about liking the boy or not! We know nothing, NOTHING, about him!”

“You’re right, honey. We don’t. But we do know that our daughter likes him.”

“She doesn’t know what she likes!”

Mariah’s bedroom door squeaked open. Her footsteps tread lightly on the carpet but not because she wanted to enter the conversation unnoticed.

“I’m glad you trust me enough to let me make my own decisions as to who I can and can’t like,” Mariah said. The sarcasm was dripping with each word.

“Have a seat,” her mom responded, “I think we have to talk about this like grown-ups.”

“Grown-ups?” Mariah’s dad asked. It was apparent where she got her sardonic wit.

“Sweetie,” her mom continued, “Everything that’s happened in the past week has gone by so fast. We’re just trying to make some sense of it all.”

Mariah swiped and tapped her finger on her phone deftly as the silence between all three of them swelled and insulated each of them.

“You don’t actually think you like this boy, do you?” dad asked. “Meeting through Manitou is impossible. Everyone says so.”

“Why can’t I like him?” Mariah asked. “There was a point where you didn’t know mom, right? This is the same but different.”

“We plugged you in to Manitou to help you with your depression, sweetheart,” mom added.

“It’s helped a great deal but I need a real connection with a human being and Josh gave me that!”

“You only met once! Two days ago!” Dad exclaimed. Mom put her hand on his shoulder to calm him down.

“IRL,” Mariah responded.

“IRL?” Dad asked.

“’In Real Life,’” Mariah responded. “We met, I swear, in the network! I swear I could see him, hear him inside Manitou while we were both plugged in.”

“What you can’t get inside your head is that that is impossible! Everyone says it’s impossible!” dad responded.

“And what none of you can understand is that NOBODY but us knows what it feels like to make that connection while plugged in. We just found each other.” Mariah shot back.

“Mariah, all this press coming to visit us, to visit the boy’s family because of this slight anomaly is very overwhelming. Don’t you think it’s possible that you two longed for a connection so badly and coincidentally felt the same thing while plugged in has made you biased towards your feelings towards each other?” Mom wondered.

“And don’t you think,” Mariah answered without looking up from her phone, “that for once you could feel happy that I found someone that I wanted to get to know; that I found someone who makes me happy? Maybe I don’t know him as well as I could but isn’t that the point of dating?”

“He’s from the other side of the planet!” dad started to raise his voice, “How do you date someone that you’re not in constant contact with?! It’s unnatural!”

Mariah just stood up and went to her room. Her phone buzzed in her hand as she shut the door behind her.

“Well,” dad said to mom, “At least she’s talking to me again.”

August 22: Los Angeles, CA

“Josh,” Josh Santos’ mom asked as she gently rapped on his bedroom door, slowly opening it. “Your lola is here. She wants to say hello.”

Josh made eye contact with his mother through the small opening in the door. He looked away before nodding in the affirmative. An elderly woman walked in and set on the bed. She was holding a plastic container as she smiled at her grandson.

“Hello, darling,” she said to him.

“Hi, lola,” he said leaning in to give her a kiss on the cheek. She took his arms and look down on them. She kissed his wrists and he could feel her lips press firmly against it through the gauze.

“How are you feeling?” lola asked.

“I’m tired. I guess I’m doing better.”

“I made you your favorite dessert.”

“Mom doesn’t want me eating too many sweets.”

“Never mind that,” she answered, “Never mind that. Go on. You can tell her I said it’s ok.” She took off the cover of the plastic container and Josh found an assortment of Filipino pastries.

“That’s my favorite desert, lola?” Josh asked. “Everything?”

“You got my sweet tooth!” she said, laughing. Josh began picking at the sweets here and there and his grandmother just looked at him for a bit before finally saying something. “What is all this about, eh?”

“Her name’s Mariah.”

“Do you like this girl?”

“I do.”

“So why are you just sitting here? Get her! You are a handsome boy; she will not say no.”

“Well there are two problems: (1) She lives on the other side of the world and (2) the whole world doesn’t think we’re really in love.”

“No one thought Romeo and Juliet were in love, right?”

“Technically they weren’t but I’ve known Mariah for much longer than those two knew each other. Look, the point is, we met each other through this computer.”

“You met on the internet?”

“Not exactly. Manitou is a special computer that helps the brain with things like depression or developmental problems. The doctor plugs in certain sick people and they get better.”

“And you two met through Manatee?”

“Manitou, lola.”

“Well, what’s wrong with that? You know I met your grandfather when he was on his way to meet his girlfriend. We never know how we meet who we are meant to be with. Your lolo was so handsome too.”

“Okay, lola, ew. No need to go into more detail.”

“It’s natural. How do you think your mother was born?”

“We are REALLY getting off track. The point is I like this girl. I might even love this girl. But the world thinks we’re just two kids. Maybe we are but I think we’ve been through enough to at least deserve some time with each other, right?”

“If it’s meant to be, it’s meant to be.”

Josh stuffed his mouth with the pastries. A cliché isn’t exactly the advice he was looking for but coming from his grandmother he appreciated the sentiment.

“You know,” lola continued, “the Santos’ are known back home from getting back on our feet. Your heart may be broken but you’ll be ok. I love you very much.”

“I love you too, lola,” Josh responded, his mouth full of food. His phone buzzed on his nightstand. He reached over and looked at his messages as his grandmother leaned in to kiss him on the forehead, sniffing his hair as she was doing it. He smiled as he looked at the phone and his grandmother left his room.

One year later: Rosalind Franklin University of Medicine and Science, Research Facility

The frenzy that the media had created around Mariah Williams of Wales and Josh Santos of the United States had finally subsided enough to allow Collins to find enough students to help him who weren’t after fifteen minutes of fame. The press hounded the research teams in the neurobiology department for days on end about the validity of the teens’ connection via Manitou. Collins refused to answer as he was uninterested what he felt was a bloated human interest story. Politicians had attempted to use it to question the validity of the science of Manitou but Collins was not about to allow his colleagues to be thrown under the bus by media pundits.

Popularity, as it always does, wanes with the passing of time and a grateful Collins could finally continue his work unhindered. He had missed working in direct contact with the Manitou central processing unit at headquarters to some extent, but he had always been a student of science. The banality of sitting at a desk and listening for anomalies that may never occur had run out of its limited charm for Collins. He admits, however, that the size of the paycheck is a tempting reason to go back.

His research into the human brain, he believes, will further the development of the Manitou project and may possibly mean an upgrade to MANI 3.0. Collins had always been fascinated with the idea the neural networks that the human brain can create are infinite. Not even the most super of supercomputers can compare with the processing power that Mother Nature developed. The story of the two teens that the media dubbed “The Wire-Crossed Lovers” may have turned Collins off to press interviews but he had often wondered if such connections could be made. But it was impossible, Collins said, that such connections could be made via Manitou.

Today, Collins was to research the effect of a connection (physical, spiritual, and emotional) in the human brain. The results were ready and have been interpreted in the same fashion that Manitou reported data a year prior. If all went according to plan, a year’s worth of work will have translated what love (not romantic love but the love between two people who connect and truly care for each other) might sound like when translated through the binary language of supercomputers. There was no denying what Collins had heard for he had heard it before. In a very deliberate rhythm a cadence to it unlike the other sounds Manitou makes: Blip. Blip. Worble.

Tell Us About Yourself

[A young man is seated center stage facing the audience. He’s wearing a cheap suit with a poorly tied tie and sneakers. He gestures towards the audience as if shaking hands with them.]

What was that? Sure, I’ll tell you a little bit about myself. Um, I graduated high school 10 years ago and did some work for my father who owns this hardware store just outside of the city. I mean, I love him and everything and we get along fine but we were always butting heads so I quit. It was better to leave that situation before either of us said anything that we were going to regret. A part of me wishes that I didn’t make a scene in front of all those customers. We talked the following day and I apologized and he wished me luck in whatever it was that I planned to do with my life. At the time, I didn’t know what I wanted to do with my life so I just sort of took my things and went north and stayed with my brother, Luke, who had just graduated college. Dad was always proud of him but I could never do what Luke does for a living.

I mean, his life is his life and mine is mine, you know? Besides, I never really had that much patience with sitting in a classroom so to get a degree after four years just so you could go to school for four more years and basically be an intern for two more… That’s ten years, man, of just being in school and being taught stuff. I guess what I’m trying to say is that I’m more of a hands on type of guy. Don’t get me wrong, I’m sure college is great for some people but I’m not some people. I’m different, you know? I even tried college for about two years before realizing it wasn’t the path for me.

What I realized is that—What was that? Oh, it changed from semester to semester. One time I had wanted to major in history. I was really good at history in high school. And I loved that too but there were just way too many essays to write, man. And all the reading was overwhelming. If I could I probably would have been able to write a book and read a whole library of history books but that’s the thing. None of the classes offered the books or subjects that I wanted to know about, what I wanted to read about. They would throw out these years and names but I wanted to know the people, you know? Like, the way I see it is history is about all these people who made some sort of impact on the world but they were just that: people. I wanted to know what made them tick but I guess they don’t teach that so I changed majors.

I remember when I got into art, then creative writing (both within the same semester, I think). Those were fun but the other kids in that class were annoying. A lot of them were trying to become the next Proust or Rembrandt but I just wanted to create things. Not to say that I was like any of those geniuses but didn’t Proust and Rembrandt at one point in their young lives say to themselves, “I just want to create stuff?” But people nowadays don’t want to create stuff, they want to get noticed. I don’t know how I feel about that stuff, really. Getting famous just doesn’t seem like much of a real goal. I want to make a real mark in this world and matter. I don’t care about strangers knowing who I am and coming up to me on the street.

That’s when I realized that maybe I should study some sort of science or something because scientists, they’re always making a huge impact on this world in some way. But they’re never recognized, you know? Sure, people know what Einstein looked like but no one can point out Jonas Salk in a line up. You know most people my age don’t even know who Jonas Salk is. Stuff like that drives me crazy that one of the most important people in the twentieth century is somehow a nobody in today’s culture. I wish I could say that I found my passion in the sciences but I just couldn’t do it. Science, math, engineering: That stuff is great and all but I just don’t have the right brain for it or something because I find it incredibly interesting but I just don’t understand any of it. Like I said, Luke was always the smarter one anyway.

There were a bunch of other subjects I was interested in but could never see myself sitting through a whole semester of lectures for them. I would go from psychology to anthropology. I majored in communications one year but that was pretty much so I could get to know this one girl. Her name was Katy and—I’m sorry? Oh, of course. Well, no that’s no trouble at all; you see I finally dropped out of college after two and a half semesters. I realized that college wasn’t for me. I couldn’t stay cooped up in a classroom and get force fed information I didn’t want to know or couldn’t understand. I figured the best thing for me would be to get out into the real world and experience life for itself. I hardly thought that I would find myself buried in some textbook or lounging around in a dorm or a fraternity house so I just quit.

I considered going back to my dad’s hardware store but it would just be such a step back for me. I had already seen a little bit more in the world and that little taste whetted my appetite. You could say that I had always been a little kid at heart always wanting to go on a new adventure whenever I could. Since dropping out of school I did a few paintings, travelled around the country a bit when I was playing for a band. There’s another life that I don’t think I was cut out for. It looks fun and everything but being a musician is nowhere near as glamorous as people think. I still play my guitar from time to time and all the money I’ve been earning for the past six months has been from selling my paintings and doing odd jobs all over the city.

I don’t really have much experience in what your company does. To tell you truth, I really don’t know much about your company but that’s why I’m here. Like I said earlier, I’m one of those guys that like to take life by the horns and see where it leads me. I’m a hands-on type of learner and I really think I’d be a great asset to your team if you’ll have me. Thanks for having me. I really appreciate it.

[His phone rings as soon as he walks out of the building’s front door. He answers.]

Hi, Katy.

Yeah, I just got out.

No, I don’t think I got it. It’s just the way they were looking at me, you know? I don’t think they understood me, where I was coming from, you know?

No! I can’t tell them that [laughs]

Yeah, I know… I know… I know you do, I love you too. I’m just frustrated that’s all.

I’ll do it. It’s no trouble, really.

I’m totally sure. The bus stops right there anyway. Now what do you want me to pick up?

[beat]

Okay… okay… Geez, are we out of that stuff already? I’m going to have to call you when I’m there because I don’t know what kind of formula you want me to get. And diapers too? All right, I’ll call you later. I love you too. Bye.

[He hangs up and puts the phone in his pocket, wiping a tear from his eye as he walks off stage.]

End

Change to Spare

“Can you spare some change?” The “s’s” whistled between the few teeth the man had. His hair was stringy, long, and seemed to dangle lifelessly from the sides of his head in a vain attempt to get back to the top of it. His skin was tanned, blackened at his heavily calloused fingertips, and hung loosely from his delicate frame; almost as loosely as the shirt he wore which was frayed on the ends of the sleeves and neckline. No one knew his name. No one bothered to learn. He had been at that corner for so long that he was considered more a part of that street than the sidewalk he stood upon.

“Sir,” he was always polite, never insistent, “Some change please?”

“What?” Marcus Lyme wasn’t familiar with this part of town but found himself on his way to the movie theater to escape a reality that, much to his chagrin, refuses to oblige to his very limited expectations. “What did you say?”

“Could you spare some change, please?”

“Why?”

“I’m just--”

“No! You know what? You’re what’s wrong with this country today! Why don’t you go out and get a job, make something of yourself! Not this!” Lyme felt he was winning this one-man screaming match. “Don’t do this! Not here! We don’t need you leaching off our hard earned money! This is mine and I intend to enjoy what I worked very hard for! YOU SHOULD BE ASHAMED OF YOURSELF!”

Lyme crossed the street as if he had just won the argument of the century. His head was held high and he thought himself a genius, a hero to the local working man. There was an odd sense of pride as he felt heads turned towards him and he almost wished that his girlfriend had been there to witness such a momentous occasion. Instead, he went to the theater to watch a movie as originally planned but the thought of saving that corner from the perils of a panhandler occupied his mind the entire time. It didn’t help his ego when he found that the old man had left that particular street corner. In his place, Lyme found a single penny.

“This belongs in the pocket of a real working man,” Lyme said to himself as he picked it up. But as he lifted the brass colored coin off of the ground he noticed his hands were dirtier than he remembered. Dirt was caked onto his fingernails which were also rougher than they should have been. His back ached from bending over but he had never had trouble with his back before. The clothes on his back were worn thin and very ill-fitted. And the smell was just unbearable. He ran to a window of the adjacent office building to look at his reflection. He still looked like Marcus Lyme but his skin was like dried leather.

“What the hell? How did this happen?” Marcus ran down the street and into a restaurant.

“No! Restrooms are for paying customers only! Get out!” The restaurant manager yelled.

“I just have to--”

“You just have to get out of here!”

“You don’t understand!”

“Out!”

“Just let me use the phone!”

“OUT! Before I call the police!”

Lyme rushed outside and was tempted to curse out the manager through the closing door of the restaurant until he spotted the phone booth around the corner. He reached into his pocket and realized that his wallet was no longer there. Frantically he stuck his hands in all his pockets and only found some lint and the penny he so carelessly picked up off the ground just a few moments ago. He picked up the receiver and hung up hoping to dislodge the last coin put into the phone. Lyme desperately looked for a coin to fall out of the coin return slot but came up empty.

“Maybe if I call collect,” he thought to himself. “No, she’d never accept the charges. I need to find me some change. I can’t even afford a bus ride home.”

He looked in the gutters and the alleyways and even hoped to find some nearby some old parking meters but Lyme couldn’t a single coin. He made several attempts to use the phone of other nearby restaurants and retail shops but he was always met with the same answer. There was only one thing he could do.

“Spare some change?” he said quietly. The first passerby could barely hear him. “Sir? Madam? If you could spare some change.” The couple just looked away and shook their heads.

“This is ridiculous.” Lyme said to himself. He continued for about an hour before asking for change became an automatic response to anyone walking near him. Only one man who was dressed in a nice suit stopped for him.

“Change, sir?” Lyme looked up and saw a familiar face staring back at him. His mouth was full of teeth and his skin softened without the years of turmoil on the streets but Marcus recognized that face instantly. The man reached into his designer coat but Lyme grabbed his arm. “What did you do? WHAT DID YOU DO TO ME?!”

Frightened, the man in the suit stepped back and a police officer on bike patrol stepped in to interfere.

“Is everything okay here?” the officer asked.

“Damn it!” Lyme said under his breath.

“Everything is fine. There was just a misunderstanding.” The officer gave Lyme a suspicious look before pedaling away. The man in the suit pulled out a few one dollar bills and handed them to Lyme.

“I don’t understand,” Lyme said.

“What don’t you understand?” the man replied, “You need spare change and I’m giving you money I can spare.”

“No, I mean all this. How am I begging on a street corner and you’re living the high life? We switched!  I know we did!”

“I’m afraid I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“You were the panhandler asking for change! I picked up—Of course! This penny! It has to be this penny! Here, take it!”

“That’s very gracious of you but I think you need that money much more than I do.”

“No, you don’t understand. It’s magic or something. I picked this up and we switched places.” Lyme took the man’s hand and placed the penny in the man’s palm. Lyme then curled the man’s finger into a fist and let go anticipating… well, he didn’t know what to expect. But nothing happened. The man stood there, amusing Lyme, but offered the penny back to Lyme. “No, that’s ok. That penny’s brought me nothing but trouble today. But don’t keep it! Spend it, throw it in the trash, but just don’t keep it. There’s no telling what will happen if you do.”

“Suit yourself,” the old man responded as he put it into his jacket pocket. “You take care of yourself. I hear it’s going to be freezing tonight. Please, take this money”

“Yeah,” Lyme responded as he took the few bills the man could spare.

A bus hissed across the street as it braked to a bus stop and Lyme realized he could take that bus home eventually. It would take much longer than usual but at least he had the money to get on. Lyme ran across the street and jumped into the bus before the doors swung shut behind him. He handed the money over to the bus driver and walked directly to the seats in the back. His seat rumbled as he leaned his head against the window and closed his eyes so gradually that he didn’t noticed that he had fallen asleep.

When he woke up, the credits just finished rolling on the large screen. The theater was empty and the ushers were preparing to enter and clean up the bits of candy and popcorn on the floor. Marcus Lyme rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and walked out of the theater. He headed towards the corner in the hopes of running into that old man asking for change but no one was there, but a lonely penny on the sidewalk. Marcus never ran into that old man again and wondered if that dream was a dream at all whenever he passed that corner. Whether or not it was just a dream, Marcus was given a rare opportunity to walk in the tattered shoes of one less fortunate than he and the result is a little change in his perspective along with some to spare in his pocket.