The fluorescent lights in the grocery store hummed quietly above as I examined a carton of milk. It was a regular Tuesday morning, the kind where you’d barely remember what you had for breakfast. As I placed the milk into the cart, a young girl with tangled hair and wide eyes approached me. She was holding a crumpled note and a small list. ‘Excuse me, sir,’ she said, her voice barely above a whisper. ‘Could you help me with a box of milk for my brother?’ I nodded, handing her the milk. Her hand remained outstretched, holding the note. ‘This is for you,’ she added, before turning and walking away. I unfolded the paper. My name was scribbled at the top, and below it, a date: 11/03/2023. It wasn’t today’s date. It was a date three months from now. The note simply read: ‘You’ll understand soon.’ I glanced around the aisle, searching for the girl, but she had vanished as quickly as she’d appeared. An unsettling silence fell over the store, as if everyone else had paused to watch my reaction. My mind raced with questions. Who was she? And why did she know my name? I’d need answers, but where to start?
