Walter had always loved books, but nothing prepared him for this bookshop. Tucked away in an alley he swore hadn’t been there before, the place smelled of parchment and possibility.
A bell chimed as he entered. “Ah, Mr. Whitmore,” the shopkeeper said, as if expecting him.
“How do you know my name?” Walter asked, but the man only smiled and handed him a book with an ornate cover. His name was embossed on it.
Curious, Walter flipped it open—and gasped. The pages held moments from his life, things he remembered, things he had forgotten… and things that had never happened.
With each turn of the page, he felt time unravel. Was this a dream? A warning? A second chance? The bookshop shimmered around him, and suddenly, he was back in 1963, standing outside the café where he never gathered the courage to ask Evelyn to dance.
The moment was his to rewrite.
Taking a deep breath, Walter stepped forward, heart pounding with a mix of fear and hope.
And this time, he didn’t hesitate.