morning coffee // Recap (10.9)

It’s hard to determine a picture from a single puzzle piece. Even a couple connected pieces seem meaningless from up close.

But when you back away, you allow yourself to take it all in. Suddenly, everything makes sense. You can’t unsee it, and you wonder how you never saw it before.

On August 21st, I touched the door. It sucked me in and ripped me apart. Then I blacked out and woke up at my desk, logging onto my computer. All seemed normal–though I felt something had changed and couldn’t be undone.

On August 23rd, a window appeared near my desk.

On August 24th, a light appeared in the window. I remember a brief conversation with E— about it. I had a headache. At the time, I assumed the dull pain was disconnected from the door and the window. I was wrong.

On August 29th, I began to lose track of time. I wrote that I had been sitting in the office for weeks or months. I had, in fact, only been sitting there for a few days. A Great Green Eye appeared in the window. I had another conversation with E—. This was the last conversation I had with him, I think.

On September 1st, I noticed that E— had gone missing, along with everyone else in the office. At the time, I assumed that they had either taken the day off or were working from home.

The inexplicable leaf seems disconnected from any other events. The timeline doesn’t appear line up at all. On those days, E— is at his desk. We have multiple conversations. But there’s no evidence that anything involving the leaf–or the plant that grew from it–ever existed. I see no scorch marks anywhere, and my Shakespeare mug is currently sitting on my desk, intact.

My notebook warned me not to trust anyone on September 25th.

On September 26th, I noticed that I had been alone in the office for over a month. (Why did it take so long for me to notice?)

On October 3rd, multiple “me”s appeared–three “me”s, to be exact.

On October 9th, the cycle began. Every day since has been October 9th. “Me”s have been arriving with exponentially increasing frequency. As of this post, a new “me” arrives about every couple hours. There are currently over one hundred “me”s standing in the office, sipping coffee, and emailing the boss.

Nothing is random. Time and space have been shrinking for over two months. Everything started with my hand and the door; to end the cycle, I know what I need to do.

I need to touch it again.


October 9th is almost over. Stay tuned to find out what happens next. 

“Morning coffee” is a serial fiction series. So far, we’ve covered rubberneckers, co-workers, cubicle stains, office plants, desk trophies, conspiracies, secret organizations, pocket dimensions, black holes, and impending, inevitable doom. And that’s just the beginning.

Where should we go next? Let me know in the comment section below.

Stay weird,

Jake

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