I’ve been going to the same gym for three years. Same locker, #237, every single time. It’s a weird habit, but I like routines.
Last week, the lock was already on it. My lock. Same combination and everything.
I told the front desk. They checked the system. “Sir, you checked in 45 minutes ago.”
“No, I just got here.”
They showed me the computer. My membership card, scanned at 5:47am. It was 6:30am now.
I went back to locker 237. Tried my combination. It opened.
Inside: my gym bag. My actual gym bag that I was currently holding in my hand.
Same brand, same color. But this one was old, worn. The zipper pull I’d lost two years ago was still attached.
I opened it. My wallet was inside. Driver’s license with my face, my name. But the issue date was 2019. I got my current license in 2021.
There was a phone too. Dead. I took it home, charged it.
It opened with my face ID.
The last text message was from my mom, timestamped three days ago: “Please come home. It’s been four years. We miss you.”
My mom died in 2020.
I still go to that gym. But I use locker #238 now.