Ethan gasped for air, his heart pounding like a drum as he jolted upright.
The room was still dim, early morning sunlight leaking through the cheap blinds. He looked around, breath caught in his throat.
This wasn't his condo.It was his college dorm room.
The twin-sized bed.The second-hand desk cluttered with energy drink cans.The Metallica poster on the wall—he remembered pinning it up himself.
Everything looked exactly the way it had… ten years ago.
"No way," he whispered. "This is a dream. This has to be a dream."
He stumbled out of bed and rushed to the mirror above the dresser. A much younger face stared back at him—no stubble, no tired eyes, no wrinkles at the corner of his mouth.
His phone—a chunky old Nokia—buzzed on the desk. 6:07 AM. The date read March 4th, 2015.
His knees nearly gave out.This wasn't just déjà vu. This was real.
He paced the room like a caged animal, heart still racing.The memories flooded in, uninvited and vivid: the layoff, the argument with his ex-wife, the cold rain on his last day at the office.The accident.
Had he died?
"No… I didn't die. I'm here. I'm alive."He looked at his hands again. Steady. Real. Young.
The knock came at 6:12 sharp.
"Yo, Ethan! You up?"It was Jake—his roommate. The same Jake who had dropped out a year later to chase crypto and ended up in Bali.
Ethan opened the door slowly. Jake stood there, shirtless, holding two plastic water bottles and grinning like they were still nineteen.
"You look like hell, man. You okay?"
Ethan stared at him. "Jake… you're real."
"Uh, yeah? What's with you?"
Ethan let out a laugh. It sounded cracked and hollow.
Jake stepped inside, dropping his bottle on the desk. "You been up all night or something?"
"No," Ethan said. "I just… I had the weirdest dream. And now I think I'm… back."
Jake frowned. "Back from where?"
"Never mind." Ethan ran a hand through his hair. "Hey, what's today's date?"
"Dude. It's Wednesday. Midterms start next week. You good?"
As Jake left for the gym, Ethan sat on the edge of the bed, still trying to process.
Ten years. He had ten years' worth of memories in his head.
The job he hated.The friends he lost.The woman he couldn't forget.
Now he was nineteen again.And for the first time in years, the world felt full of possibility.
He whispered to himself, "This time… I'm not going to waste it."
He reached for a notebook.And began to write everything he remembered—names, dates, stock trends, crypto booms, everything.
His second chance had just begun.