I sit here, gazing into my cup of finished coffee, the foam still at the bottom, slowly disappearing. I can't bring myself to look away from the foam. As I look closer, I seem to be falling right off my seat at Starbucks, and into the coffee cup before me. Falling through the foam feel really weird. I decide to check my phone. It's 4:59. This is the most unimportant fact in the book of life. Time is very interesting. Without time, I don't know. Finally, I land on my **** in the middle of a corn field that turns slowly into a very cold and stuffy room filled with pianos. I suddenly realize I am now a boy because I feel my ****. From the weight, I can approximate that it is about 9 inches. That's pretty big for a white boy of 12. I have been writing music my whole life and have always wanted to play piano. I have never played before but I know how to write music. The room that I am in is filled with the sound of a grand piano playing. I have no idea how I know this since I have never played piano before. But I follow the sound to the back of the shop where I see an old woman with grey hair all down her back. She is hunched over a huge grand piano and she is playing is though her life depends on it. Her ***** stamp reads: "Where there is will, there is way". There is spelled "they're". I push my horn rim spectacles up the bridge of my nose, suddenly realizing I aspire to be Percy Wesley. The glasses I am wearing are totally fake and don't even have lenses. I look in front of me at the woman again. Her fingers move across the piano keys like spiders, her hair blows in the wind that is not there because we are inside. I can't stop thinking about two things. The first thing is that there is something important in the briefcase I am suddenly holding, and the other is the woman's ***** stamp. Deciding that my brief case in more important, I open it up. It is filled with countless sheets on music that I have written for piano. I wonder what they sound like because I have never played piano before. I reach out to tap the woman on the shoulder, and with baited breath due to nerves, I tap her. The music stops. The piano store suddenly smells increasingly like coffee. The old spider like woman begins to turn around until she is looking at my fully in the face. I finally see that she is not a woman but a man. She is actually me when I am 99, the year when my psychic told me I would pass on. I place the piano music before of my future self, feeling very nervous. He smiles at me like he knows my whole future. As the room begins to smell more and more like coffee, he begins to play the music sheet I wrote. It sounds like everything I have ever imagined. As I begin to float upwards, I ask,
"what does the ***** stamp even mean?" "I reply to myself, " stay in integrity." I am no longer a boy. I am looking deeply into my coffee cup, trying to figure out what to write, as I listen to the piano playing through the speakers above me.