Your Unfinished Future

The museum has finished with you for tonight.

You leave here known by something that cannot quite place your name, able to step back into weather that has already passed, and given back a hallway you were once called into. You also go out with an old sentence finally allowed to end and released from an apology you had prepared.

The Domestic Weather Memory Era files your future under shelter. Expect rain indoors, and a voice calling you in before the thunder.

The Counterfactual Communications Boom keeps your line open. Somewhere a receiver is warm, and nobody in that kitchen has hung up.

Keep the ticket. None of these futures arrived, and one of them is now yours.