the little time we have

I walked down the street, the air was musty, dusty, and it smelled like mud mixed with piss. The sky was dim grey, and the streetlights had a golden shine on the wet concrete. The walk was relatively silent, aside from the occasional coughing sounds from the alleyways.

I heard footsteps thumping into the ground behind me, Quick footsteps, but not quite running. I turned around to see a man with tangled, messy, and dirty hair. His face was covered in brown and black dirt. His clothes were torn and reeked of urine.

He called out my name, "THOMPSON!" He yelled loudly, but I didn't know this man. I turned back around, and I picked up my pace and walked faster down the street, hoping he would lose interest. For all I knew, he could be a drug dealer who really needed money and was going to kill me.

But instead, he started running, and he called out my name a second time. "Thompson, wait up!" I finally stopped and fully turned to face the man. He caught up, slightly out of breath and said. "Yo, dude, it's been a while, how are you?"

I felt rather confused, for I had never met this man in my life. so I asked, "I'm sorry, but have we met before or something?" He shook his head, saying "No, technically I meet you in the future, but that timeframe is kinda bland."

I shook my head, and I chuckled, a pity chuckle. For sure this man had gone crazy and must've picked up my name following me around or something. "No, that's crazy. The future, huh?" I said, sarcasm etched into my tone.

He nodded his head vigorously and exclaimed, "Yes! It's a stretch, I'm sure, but yes, it's real!" For a moment, I almost believed him; he seemed so confident. But I knew this was just the craziness of an old homeless man. "Oh yeah? Well, what's your name?"

He smiled, like a kid who got his most wanted gift for Christmas. he exclaimed immediately, "My name's Theodore!" I froze; that was the name of my son. "Theodore, huh? That's an interesting name." The man noticed my pause, and said,"Yeah, sounds familiar, don't it?" I shook my head, not to say no, but more out of disbelief.

How did this man know so much about me? But what he said next made me sure he had already had this conversation with me. "Im your son, Thompson, that's how I know so much. And I now I look homeless, but that's just to hide from the cops. Yes, the cops from the future also have time travel. Yes, I am a fugitive."

I was speechless. This man was my son? What happened to him to make him a fugitive? Did I raise him wrong? Did I not get to raise him at all? He answered those questions immediately. "No, you did not raise me wrong. Matter of fact, you raised me perfectly, but the cops killed Mom. So I'm taking revenge. And no, I can't tell you when this'll happen, because that would be wrong. Thank you for everything, Dad, but I have to go."

Right before my eyes, he vanished as if he had never been there in the first place. I froze in place, unsure of what to do now. Do I just go home and pretend nothing happened? Well, that's what I did, I went home, greeted my wife and kid, who eventually would become a fugitive, and I hugged them, being reminded I won't have them forever, made me appreciate them even more.

Now you might think this story's over, but it's not. My son came back a week later. He ran up to me, this time in a suit; his hair was no longer a mangy brown mess, but a neat side part, slicked down professionally. His blue eyes shone in the morning sun.

He exclaimed, "Dad! I need help!" I didn't hesitate to ask what he needed help with, and he said, "I need a gun, I'm killing the future president, they want to kill everyone they deem unfit." I knew immediately it was a race thing. I could tell by the tone of voice, my wife was black, and I knew that's why she died. I was white, my son was not white, meaning he was actively in danger.

I quickly took him into my house, walked to the garage, and opened my gun safe. I held a number of guns, an AR, a shotgun, 3 pistols, and 2 hunting rifles. I gave him a duffel bag containing all the guns and many rounds of ammunition. I wished him luck and to come back if he succeeded.

He came back a month later, bloody, his arm and ribs were broken, he was barely conscious, but I managed to patch him up. I learned many things as a kid who got hurt a lot. He said he succeeded and that the new president was good. I asked to take him to the hospital, but he said no, because the blood in the future was mutated from a virus that many didn't survive.

I let him go back to his present time, feeling proud and happy he did the deed. I went to the living room, and I hugged my son, Theodore. I kissed my wife, and I made a 5-star dinner, because I knew I didn't have many more peaceful years with them left.

Later I went to work, and I noticed something, everyone is constantly looking at the clock, waiting for time to go by, wasting precious minutes, hours, and even days, just because they don't want to do their job. I will never do that again.

Value your time with family and friends wisely. Becuase they might not have as much time as you think they do. Remember, everyone is going through something. act as though every minute may be your last, but don't do drugs.