It’s hard to do anything right

It’s hard to do anything right

I couldn’t sleep. It was the middle of the night. I rode my time machine to my bedroom two nights in the future. I found my two-days-from-now-self sleeping. I shook and woke that me up.

That me said, “What the hell?!?”

I said, “It’s okay, it’s me, Brooks.”

That me said, “Oh, okay. What’s going on? Why are you here?”

I said, “I was feeling lonely and was hoping we could talk.”

That me said, “I guess. What do you want to talk about?”

I said, “Gee, I don’t know, what do you want to talk about?”

That me said, “You sound tired. Why don’t you join me and catch some sleep?”

I nodded and spooned that me.

I whispered in his ear, “You know me so well.”

That me whispered back, “Shut up before I lose it.”

I whispered back, “Sorry, goodnight.”

That me whispered, “Night.”

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