I bought an old book from a second-hand shop because I liked the cover.
It was a collection of strange essays and local legends. Most of it was boring, until I reached a page near the middle.
There was a paragraph about a man with my exact name.
Same first name. Same last name.
It described him living in the same town where I grew up, on the same street, in a house with a green door.
My childhood house had a green door.
The paragraph ended by saying that the man “left before the winter came.”
There was no date, no source, no explanation. I checked the publication year. The book was printed before I was born.
I went back to the shop to ask where it came from.
The owner said he had never seen that book before and did not remember selling it to me.