The Man Who Remembered Tomorrow

The Man Who Remembered Tomorrow

Ethan woke up with the same unsettling certainty he had learned to accept: he already knew what today would bring. The sensation was always disorienting—memories of events that hadn’t happened yet, as vivid as dreams but sharper, more insistent. At first, it was subtle: he’d know which song would play on the radio, or what small argument he’d have with his neighbor. But over time, the visions had grown longer, more detailed, and impossible to ignore.

This morning was different. As he sat on the edge of his bed, staring at the sun spilling through the window, he remembered something that made his chest tighten: a scream. A scream that had no place in a normal day, but one he knew would happen before the sun set.

Ethan had always been careful. For years, he had navigated life by steering away from dangers only he could foresee. He knew when to take different routes to avoid accidents, how to prevent minor catastrophes at work, even when to call his mother before she fell and hurt herself in the kitchen. Life had become a series of calculated decisions, all dictated by memories of tomorrow.

But the scream today was different. It was a sharp, violent memory, echoing in his mind like a warning he couldn’t ignore. He dressed quickly, his hands trembling as he buttoned his shirt. Every instinct screamed for him to stop the day before it even began, but he knew that trying to avoid fate might make it worse.

He started with his usual routine: coffee at the small café around the corner, greeting the barista who always asked about his cat, Luna. She purred in his lap as he sipped his cappuccino, oblivious to the tension in Ethan’s hands. “Something’s different today,” he whispered to her, and she blinked slowly, her warmth grounding him even as his mind raced.

The first memory of the day played out exactly as he recalled: spilling coffee on the counter and apologizing profusely, stepping around a child chasing a balloon, the small kindness of holding the door for an elderly woman. Everything felt ordinary—until the shadows of his memory began to creep in.

Walking to work, he sensed it first: the silence of the street, the absence of morning chatter, the way a neighbor’s bicycle leaned too close to the curb. His stomach twisted. Then he saw her.

A woman, standing on the corner, waiting. He didn’t know her name. He hadn’t met her before. And yet, in the memory, she had screamed.

“Excuse me,” he called, his voice tight as he approached. “Are you… okay?”

She turned, startled. Dark eyes, wide with fear, scanning the empty street. “I… I don’t know. I just… I think someone’s following me.”

Ethan’s heart lurched. His memory had been right. Something terrible was about to happen. “Stay close to me,” he said. “We’ll figure this out together.”

The streets stretched ahead, deserted and quiet, every shadow a potential threat. Ethan’s mind raced, recalling the sequence of events as he remembered them: the alley where the scream would pierce the air, the black car parked too long under the streetlamp, the figure that would step from the shadows.

He guided her down a different path, trying to rewrite the memory, to bend fate in their favor. But fate, it seemed, was stubborn. The alley appeared anyway, twisting and dark. The same black car waited, its engine silent, the figure emerging with deliberate steps.

“Run!” Ethan shouted, grabbing her hand. They sprinted, weaving through the streets, adrenaline burning every nerve. His memory had prepared him for this—he knew where to turn, how to hide, when to pause—but the scream he had dreaded so much was still echoing in his mind, a warning that he couldn’t shake.

The chase felt endless. Heart pounding, lungs burning, Ethan’s thoughts flickered between strategy and fear. For a moment, he wondered if the visions had misled him. Perhaps he had been imagining this? But the cold metal of the alley gate, the echo of footsteps behind them, told him otherwise.

Then it happened. The figure lunged. Instinctively, Ethan pushed the woman aside, taking the brunt of the attack himself. Pain seared through his arm, but he kept running, driving them toward a crowded street where safety waited.

Somehow, miraculously, they made it. People shouted, lights flashed, and the figure vanished, melting back into the night. The woman, shaking but alive, clutched Ethan’s arm. “I… I don’t know how to thank you,” she stammered.

Ethan swallowed, every muscle trembling. “Just… be safe,” he said. “That’s all I can do.”

For the first time, the memory of tomorrow didn’t feel like a curse. It was a gift. He realized that even though he couldn’t control everything, he could use the knowledge he had to protect others, to change outcomes that mattered.

As the night deepened, Ethan walked home, exhausted but alive. Luna greeted him at the door, her purrs a balm to the chaos of the day. He sat down, the events replaying in his mind, a strange mix of relief and awe filling him.

Tomorrow, he would wake up again with memories of the day ahead. And perhaps, with a little courage, he could face them—not alone this time, but with the knowledge that even the deadliest visions could be rewritten, one choice at a time.

Ethan stroked Luna, a faint smile on his lips. The future remained uncertain, but he had learned something important: knowing tomorrow didn’t make him powerless—it made him prepared.

And for the first time, that was enough.