Chapter 3: The Worst Day Of My Life

Suddenly I stood in the autumn cold in a wooded area near a trail. The leaves had all fallen. The air was crisp. I knew what was coming because I’d lived it. A young man, looking worried, ran past me. He continued for about a quarter mile beyond, then stopped. He looked around, shouted something, then ran another quarter mile up the road, and out of sight. A few minutes later I saw him running back. He passed me again, and continued in the other direction, running until I could no longer see him. In a few minutes he ran back. I looked at his face as he approached. He was crying. He looked like shit. He was me. This is too much, I thought. I’m not ready for this. Not nearly. I’ll write it later. Self-Referential Metanovel Writing for D*mmies