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Contemporary Speculative

The sound of keys jingling as the door swung open was the first crack in Alex’s already fragile mood. His apartment greeted him with a mocking silence, broken only by the hum of the fridge and the faint tick of the wall clock. The weight of another soul-sucking day at work pressed on his shoulders as he slipped off his shoes and threw his bag onto the couch.

“Just another year in this dump and we’ll be out. I got this,” he muttered to himself, trying to push away the doubts clawing at the edges of his mind.

“You’re late again,” Emma’s voice called from the kitchen. It wasn’t angry—not yet. Just tired.

He knew the drill. She’d ask how his day went, and he’d mutter some half-hearted answer. She’d try to cheer him up, and he’d snap at her, not because of anything she did, but because the frustration bubbling inside him needed an outlet. And she unfairly, undeservedly, was closest.

Tonight played out no differently.

“Yeah, I know. Can’t change that now, can I?” he replied, sharper than intended, not meeting her eyes. The way her jaw tightened told him she noticed.

“I want you to stop bringing work home with you. This is supposed to be our space. Can’t you leave that baggage at the door for once?”

He didn’t respond. Couldn’t. The guilt and fear clamped down on his throat. Instead, he muttered something about needing a nap and retreated to the bedroom, leaving Emma’s disappointment hanging in the air.

Their room was sparse, mostly filled with Emma’s belongings. Her books stacked neatly on shelves, her photographs on the dresser. His things were few and tucked away—a handful of worn paperbacks, a dusty gaming console, and a laptop perched precariously on a corner table, its surface covered with paper filled with notes and scribbles of a game he had been working on for the past three years but just couldn’t make the time to finish and publish.

He’d always imagined more.

A warm wooden floor covered in soft carpets, colorful paintings lining pristine white walls, and a home office with a beautiful desk where he could immerse himself in creativity. These dreams, vibrant and clear in his mind, had never materialized in reality. But tonight, he let his mind drift toward that vision, a picture of a happy home shared with Emma.

Alex sat on the edge of his bed and glanced at his calendar. It was packed with back-to-back meetings, requests from colleagues he’d agreed to help, and reminders to check on reports he didn’t care about. The sight weighed him down. A constant chase for praise, a silent hope for a promotion. He sighed and closed it, exhaustion tugging at his limbs. 

His mind slipped into a restless haze, a mix of regret and yearning swirling in the dark. Somewhere deep within, a desperate part of him stirred. A part that wasn’t ready to give up. To stop fighting.

It was his mind that pulled him under—into a place beyond the familiar. A connection forged in desperation. A place where his choices had led him down a different path.

When Alex woke, something was different. The first thing he noticed was the smell. Not the usual lingering aroma of reheated takeout, but something rich and inviting. Garlic, rosemary, and… was that roast chicken? His senses stirred, tugged from the fog of sleep by the tantalizing scent.

He sat up, blinking. His surroundings were unfamiliar yet eerily comforting. The bed he lay on wasn’t his. The sheets were softer, the headboard a sleek mahogany he didn’t recognize. A picture frame on the nightstand caught his eye. In it, he stood next to a woman holding a toddler. Both were beaming at the camera.

The woman was Emma. The toddler, a boy with curly hair and bright, mischievous eyes, looked up at them with pure joy. Alex stared at the photo, his mind struggling to catch up.

More photos adorned the walls, each depicting milestones he couldn’t remember - a trip to Japan, a baby’s first steps, a family vacation on a sunlit beach. 

His heart raced, caught between wonder and confusion.

The sound of laughter and jazz music drew him out of bed. He followed the noise down a hallway lined with more pictures. The wooden floors beneath his feet were warm, the walls adorned with colorful paintings - a reflection of the home he’d always dreamed of but never had. Each detail deepened the sense of displacement - and longing.

In the kitchen, Emma stood swaying to the music, holding the toddler in her arms as they danced. Her face lit up when she saw Alex.

“There’s the sleepyhead,” she teased, grinning. “Dinner’s almost ready. How was your nap?”

He couldn’t speak. Instead, he just watched, taking in the warmth of the scene. The child giggled, reaching out to him. Automatically, Alex stepped forward and scooped him up. The boy squealed with delight.

“You’re getting heavy, kiddo,” Alex said, the words slipping out as if he’d always known them.

The evening passed in a haze of surreal joy. They ate together, laughed, and shared stories about the day. Emma mentioned a game he’d been working on—his game—and how excited their son was to “play Daddy’s monsters.”

It hit him then. The warm wooden floors, the vibrant paintings, the inviting home office—everything was a mirror of what he had carried in his heart but never dared to reach for. Here, he had chosen himself and built the life he’d always imagined. A life filled with love, purpose, and joy. He lied in bed with his family, his mind slipping back into the crevices of his reality.

He opened his eyes, waking to the familiar hum of his apartment. The smell of roast chicken and the sound of jazz were gone. The bedroom was his own again - messy, cold, and painfully real. For a moment, he lay there, clutching the memory of what could be.

He got up and walked to the kitchen. Emma stood by the stove, stirring a pot. She turned to him, wary.

“Feeling better?” she asked.

He nodded, stepping closer. “I’ve been hugging the darkness hoping to find the toughest version of myself there. For us. But I see now that I’m doing it all wrong. I’ll take care of it,” he said with a newfound determination painted across his face.

Emma tilted her head slightly, a small smile tugging at her lips. “That’s a weird way to put it, but I get you. I just need you to actually mean it, Alex.”

“I do,” he said, taking her hand. Together, they cleared the table and carried the dishes to the sink. As Emma washed up, Alex dried, their movements falling into an easy rhythm.

As they worked, Alex’s mind buzzed with determination. He would say no more often. He’d carve out time for himself, for Emma, for the dreams he’d been too afraid to chase. The memory of the alternate reality burned bright in his mind, a glimpse of what could be.

“Just another year in this dump, and we’ll be out of here. We got this,” he said, his voice steadier than it had been in weeks, glancing at Emma.

She smiled and reached for her phone, tapping her screen. The soft strains of jazz filled the room, mirroring the quiet spark of hope now dancing in her eyes.

Piece by piece, choice by choice, Alex vowed to build the life he’d seen—for both of them.

January 10, 2025 09:49

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8 comments

10:26 Jan 20, 2025

Love the scene setting. Written in a way that can feel you transported. Easy to identify with the feelings, that within a few sentences, you're taken in. Stories of hope give joy 😊

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08:42 Jan 22, 2025

Thanks so much for reading, Nils. Hope dies last :)

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Jennifer Addison
10:48 Jan 16, 2025

Well-written story of feeling stuck and longing for improvement. I love that the only thing that really needs to change in the end is his attitude about it all. Your prose and details are excellent- it was easy to sink into the story immediately. :)

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07:02 Jan 17, 2025

Thank you for your very kind words! I'm glad you enjoyed it :)

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Cleopatra Kitti
09:09 Jan 16, 2025

Authentic writing on self doubt on the one hand and igniting self confidence by taking control of thoughts and mind on the other hand. Very contemporary.

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07:04 Jan 17, 2025

Thanks for reading :)

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21:48 Jan 15, 2025

A beautiful story, probably reflecting a lot of young people's struggle for a better life. Perfectly written by this writer

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07:05 Jan 17, 2025

You're too kind!

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