I rolled over onto my stomach as I stretched and burrowed my face in the sheets. Then I remembered what day it was; I turned 17 today. I turned back over with a grin and yawned so hugely that my eyes were forced closed. I ambled out of bed and headed to my door to shower, expecting a big day of fun with my friends and brother.

My shins bumped into a desk and as I stumbled, my toe hit a tin trashcan. This wasn’t right. My desk was nowhere near my door. What was going on? My eyelids popped open in surprise and I recognized nothing of this room. There were no band posters or Marvel posters or anything on the walls, the door was across the room, and I had no idea where I was.

I ran to the door and yanked it open. Instead of a long hallway in front of me, there was a turn and a flight of stairs. I ran down them and searched for a reflective surface and finally found a bathroom. Looking back at me from the mirror was a stranger. A guy, no less. I had no idea who I was, so I searched the living room for mail and hoped that there wasn’t anyone else here.

“Mark Hill,” I muttered to myself when I found a gas bill. The guy’s voice was a deep, gravelly sound, like he gargled glass. As I dropped the letter back to the coffee table, I turned in circles, desperate to figure out what was going on; an older man came out of one of the other doors, appearing confused.

“Hey, John, what are you doing up this early? I thought you were up late from that test last night?” The man, who I assume was Mark, slowly made his way toward me as I stared. I thought franticly, trying to come up with something neutral that ‘John’ would say.

“Yeah, I just needed a drink, but I’m going to go back to bed now.”

“Alright. Just make sure you’re awake and moving before 2, ‘kay?” Mark grinned. I didn't know if I was supposed to know what was going on or not, so I just nodded and headed back the way I came. I closed the bedroom door and leaned against it and slid down to sit on the floor. As I tipped my head back, I realized that though I didn’t truly feel tired, my eyes were drooping closed on their own, like I had stayed up late working on a test. Instead of giving in to the blackness, I decided that I had plenty of time to look around the room and still get enough sleep before 2.

I stood in the middle of the room and turned slowly to take in the room on a whole. There was nothing that immediately jumped out at me that told me who I was supposed to be, who this John guy is, what he likes. I went to the desk and sat down in the chair. There was a careful, neat stack of papers on the left of the laptop sitting on the desk. I opened the lid of the computer, and hoped that there wasn’t a password active on John’s profile. Miraculously, I didn’t have to guess a random stranger’s personal password. However, there was a small ding as it loaded. Mark didn’t come to see what I was doing when I said I was going to bed, so I assumed that it was normal, or that he didn’t hear anything. I suddenly wondered who Mark was, a brother, a father, uncle, cousin? And why did it seem like Mark and John were the only two living here?

I stood stoically in the rain. There was a sea of black umbrellas hovered above me. Flowers were getting soaked on top of the coffins. Afterwards, I watched as everyone turned to leave while the holes were being filled in. Every person in attendance felt the need to pat us on the shoulder as they left. We thanked the gravediggers and sat against the headstones for hours. Eventually, the rain became a drizzle and then nothing. We still sat. As twilight fell, we stood in unison and headed to the empty house. I could only be grateful that my brother was old enough to take care of me. I was grateful that I wasn’t going to have to meet new people to take care of me until I’m considered old enough to be responsible.

I pushed that last question from my mind as I opened the ‘My Documents’ folder on John’s computer. I clicked on the pictures first, personal curiosity winning out. There were 3 folders. Family, Friends, and Funnies. I slowly moved the trackpad to ‘family’ and clicked. There were three pictures with a full family of five: a mother, father, and three boys. All the rest had at least one missing, and eventually, there were only two people in them. The mother disappeared first. Then the oldest child was gone. It was only a few photos before the father was no longer there either. “That explains Mark, then,” I whispered to myself. I glanced down at the clock in the corner of the laptop and saw that it was only 7:30 in the morning, so I went back out of the pictures and clicked on the ‘School’ folder.

This guy is apparently really, really diligent in school. He has everything neatly put away in folders by year and subject, and in some cases, individual units. Everything has a name that clearly states what the assignment is and when it was completed and turned in. “He’s like Scarlett Johansson. Can’t stand a clutter…” I muttered to myself as I stood to straddle the chair backwards, taking in the rest of the room. There was no laundry on the floor, no clutter on his bookshelves, nothing cluttering his desk. Everything was where it was needed and not in the way. Then I realized that I didn’t easily spot one item.

A physical calendar. I searched the room, opening and closing drawers carefully, finally finding a mini calendar in his bedside table. I flipped it open and skimmed it as I went to September. As I would have guessed, John marks out the days that have passed and notes big events (Friend’s birthdays, family’s birthdays, big assignments due dates, etc.) in the corners of the day. I find today, September 26th, circled and written across, most likely by Mark, given the messiness, reading: “John’s 17th” in red letters that are barely contained in the square. I sat on the bed, wondering what the odds were that I would wake up, in the body of a guy that has the same birthday as me, almost the same situation as me. As I sat there, I eventually came to wonder where John was, if he was having the same problem I was, if he had even woken up at all.
I glanced at the clock and saw that it was already 8 AM. I strode across the room to close the file window and put the computer to sleep and then trudged back to the bed, wishing for my bed, my room. I fell asleep imagining my piles of clothes falling out of the closet; my posters covering each other and fighting for space on my walls; my glow-in-the dark stick-on stars on my ceiling that my dad and brother had helped me put on so I could always sleep under the stars; my desk overflowing with papers and knick-knacks; my bookshelves barely supporting all my books cascading down to the ground.

At 9:30 in the morning, on September 26th, 2014, Lily Patterson woke to her brother, Peter, singing happy birthday. She rolled over and grinned at him. “I had the strangest dream ever,” Lily confided in him as they prepared for a fun day of activities.

On the same day, at 1:30 in the afternoon, John Hill was awakened to his brother, Mark, knocking on his door, telling him to get ready. John stretched and ambled over to open his door. As he leaned on his doorframe, John told his brother, “You know, I had the weirdest dream.”

“Was it clowns or midgets?” Mark teased. All John could do was laugh and shove him, muttering, “Jerk” on his way to the bathroom.