Credit: Jamie Tufrey

"Honey, I remember everything that's going to happen in the next 20 years," Zane told his beloved wife, feeling a wave of euphoria: he had never said those words before. He remembered endless incidents of déjà vu, always accompanied by a powerful and mysterious impulse to do the same thing, always with the feeling that it was utterly important simply to go with the flow. Now he knew why.

"What? Are you feeling OK?" Emily put the back of her hand to his forehead. He brought her hand down to his lips and kissed it.

"God, it's good to see you again, my darling. I do remember the future, you know," he said with a warmth and sincerity that startled his young wife. It was Saturday evening and, after all, they'd been home together all day.

"Really? Then what am I going to say next?" she asked, always the pragmatist. Zane shook his head.

"I don't know, I didn't do this last time," he answered honestly. She smiled with that lovely, superior smile she had and shook her head.
"A likely story, Mr. Fibber," she said gently and kissed his cheek before turning back to her stew. Zane ached as he watched her.

He realized with a shock, that perhaps this time, he could convince her to get checked out early. If they could catch the cancer before it spread, she might not die this time.

"Oh look, a garage sale," said Emily pointing at the faded orange sign. Zane obliged with a knowing smile and followed the arrows to the broken down old house. As soon as he saw it, he knew which garage sale this was. Over the years she'd come to believe in his story about the book, especially after they caught the tumour early. Though he knew she didn't fully understand it, she had been grateful, and the additional nine years of life had been full and good. And the future remained open.

Now, as he caught the oak leaf, Zane glanced over at the cat who purred happily as Emily stroked his head. Zane had to wonder if that's what the animal had been waiting for all along.