Member-only story
The Do-Over
What no one tells you about eternal life
Smith’s last mortal act was murder.
Now, prowling the dark places, she wonders about karma and redemption. And what a really good pastrami sandwich would taste like.
She was standing where she always stood on the platform, well away from the crowded spots by the stairs and turnstiles, reading. Let the rest of the cattle shove themselves into the middle cars. Even when she didn’t get a seat, she at least had some breathing room by coming down here to the end of the platform.
Sometimes she gazed idly at the steps that led down into the tunnel and wondered about going down there. What was around that curve? Another, earlier iteration of Smith would have gone down there to see. That Smith was long gone and today’s Smith had a job interview. Back to the book. What was that down by the tracks, though?
Regal and ruined, a tall figure had emerged from the dark of the tunnel catching the corner of her eye. Out of nowhere, Smith felt kind of high, but cold and like she was about to be really scared. The figure stopped and waited for her. Layers of Smith, the responsible adult, peeled away and she dropped the book. There was a rumble and for an instant the figure was back-lit before the train barreled into the station. Smith didn’t get on it.
