TLDR: Listen Instead

So Melvin came to me with something that broke every rule of reality.

He said, “I found a receipt from 2028.”

I asked him what he meant, and he said, “I was organizing the receipt box. Cleaning out old papers. And I found a receipt. It’s dated October 23rd, 2028. That’s three years from now. But it’s in our receipt box. Mixed in with receipts from this month.”

I told him he must have misread the date, but Melvin said, “I checked it three times. October 23rd, 2028. And it’s in our handwriting. Your handwriting, actually. You wrote it.”

Now I’m looking at the receipt. And he’s right. It’s my handwriting. I’d recognize it anywhere. And the date is definitely 2028. October 23rd. Three years in the future.

The receipt is for a haircut. $18. Cash. Customer name: “Mike.” There’s a note at the bottom in my handwriting: “Scar on left temple. Asks about the old place. Seems sad.”

I don’t remember writing this. I don’t remember this customer. But it’s my handwriting. And it’s dated three years from now.

Melvin said, “I think you wrote this in the future. And somehow it ended up in our past. In our receipt box. Today.”

I asked him how that was possible, and he said, “I don’t know. But nothing about this place follows normal rules anymore. Missing time. Parallel customers. Entities in the parking lot. Why not receipts from the future?”

Now I’m obsessed with this receipt. I’m studying it. Looking for clues. And I’m finding things that terrify me.

The receipt mentions a customer named Mike with a scar on his left temple. I know a Mike who comes in regularly. But he doesn’t have a scar. Not now. But the receipt says he will. In three years, he’ll have a scar on his left temple.

Melvin said, “Maybe he gets the scar in the next three years. And in 2028, when he comes in, you write this receipt. And somehow, it comes back to us. Today.”

I asked him why my future self would send a receipt back in time, and he said, “Maybe you didn’t send it. Maybe it just… leaked. Like a crack in time. And things from the future are bleeding through.”

So I started looking through the receipt box more carefully. And I found more receipts from the future. All dated 2028. All in my handwriting. All with notes about customers.

One receipt is dated November 3rd, 2028. Customer: “James.” Note: “Hasn’t been in for six months. Looks tired. Asked about Sam.”

Another receipt is dated December 15th, 2028. Customer: “Tom.” Note: “New tattoo on his neck. Didn’t ask about it. He didn’t want to talk.”

Another receipt is dated January 8th, 2029. Customer: “David.” Note: “This is the last one. After this, nobody comes in anymore.”

That one made my blood run cold. “After this, nobody comes in anymore.” What does that mean? Does the shop close? Does something happen? Why would nobody come in anymore?

Melvin said, “I think your future self is sending you messages. Through receipts. Trying to warn you about something.”

I asked him what the warning was, and he said, “I don’t know. But ‘nobody comes in anymore’ doesn’t sound good.”

I started looking at the dates more carefully. The last receipt is dated January 8th, 2029. After that, there are no more receipts from the future. Which means either the shop closes, or something happens that stops customers from coming in, or my future self stops sending receipts back.

Melvin said, “I think we need to figure out what happens between now and January 2029. Because whatever it is, it’s bad enough that your future self is trying to warn you.”

I asked him how we’re supposed to figure that out, and he said, “We look at the clues. The receipts. The customer names. The notes. We see if there’s a pattern. We see if we can figure out what’s coming.”

So we started analyzing the receipts. The customers mentioned are all regulars. Mike. James. Tom. David. All people who come in regularly. And in the future, they’re still coming in. Until January 8th, 2029. And then nobody comes in anymore.

Melvin said, “Maybe something happens to the shop. A fire. A flood. An accident. Something that forces it to close.”

I said, “Or maybe something happens to me. And I can’t run the shop anymore.”

Melvin said, “Or maybe something happens to the customers. Something that keeps them away.”

Now I’m terrified because I don’t know what’s coming. I have receipts from the future telling me that something bad is going to happen. But I don’t know what it is. And I don’t know how to stop it.

I asked Melvin if he thought we should tell someone, and he said, “Tell them what? That we have receipts from the future? That your future self is sending you warnings? Nobody would believe us. And even if they did, what could they do?”

I asked him if he thought we could change it, and he said, “Maybe. If we know what’s coming, we can prepare. We can try to prevent it. But we don’t know what’s coming. We just know that something is.”

Now I’m watching the shop differently. I’m looking for signs. Cracks in the walls. Electrical problems. Anything that might lead to a disaster. But everything looks fine. The shop is fine. The customers are fine. Everything is normal.

But I have receipts from the future that say it won’t be normal. That something is coming. That by January 2029, nobody will come in anymore.

Melvin asked me, “Do you think your future self knows what’s going to happen? Do you think that’s why they’re sending the receipts back?”

I said, “I don’t know. But I think they’re trying to help. I think they’re trying to warn me. And I think I need to figure out what the warning is before it’s too late.”

But I have a feeling it’s already too late. And whatever’s coming, it’s already on its way.

Here’s What We’re Thinking

The future is uncertain. Time is broken. But your style doesn’t have to be. That’s why we’re offering 25% off all Reuzel products right now. Stock up while you still can. While the shop is still here.

Get 25% Off Reuzel Products Now

Visit Venice Barbershop off US 41, next to the courthouse. We’re the only walk-in barbershop offering hot lather shaves. Walk-ins welcome Tuesday–Friday 9am–6pm, Saturday 10am–2pm. Come in while you still can. We don’t know how much longer we’ll be here.

Look dapper. Enjoy it while it lasts. (We’re trying to.)