A man tapped me on the shoulder in the cookie and cracker aisle of the supermarket.
This is the beginning of the deconstruction of everything I know. Everything WE know. The deconstruction of EVERYTHING.
The man said his name was Thomas. His name wasn’t Thomas.
The man told me he was a Philosophical Scientist. I didn’t know what that meant but that didn’t matter because he wasn’t one.
Thomas explained that he didn’t know who I was but that it was important for me to come with him to his office a few blocks away. He assured me I wouldn’t be harmed. His frail frame convinced me this was true. He told me I needn’t be alarmed of any theft or foul-play. He simply needed to explain something that he couldn’t discuss in public.
I followed him.
I don’t know why I followed him.
Perhaps it was the sterile smell of his soft colored clothes that convinced me he really was a man of science. Maybe it was the way he spoke so vaguely succinct about this situation he felt so strongly about. Or maybe it was simply because I had nothing better to do.
Either way, I set down my basket of produce and milk in the middle of the aisle and I followed him out the sliding doors of the supermarket and into the auburn rays of the evening sun.
One important note: None of this actually happened.