Anonymous Story
I met a stranger at a train station who knew my name.
He walked past me, stopped, turned around, and said, “You are late, Daniel.”
My name is Daniel.
I thought maybe he knew me from somewhere, but I had never seen him before. When I asked what he meant, he looked embarrassed and said he had mistaken me for someone else.
Ten years later, in a different city, I saw the same man.
He looked exactly the same.
I was older. He was not.
He passed me on the street, stopped, and said the same words:
“You are late, Daniel.”
This time I ran after him, but when he turned the corner, he was gone.
I do not know what I am late for.
That is what bothers me most.