It was a normal morning, which meant it would be a normal day.

Jack got up at five-forty-five. He went to the gym at six. At seven-thirty, he was home having a quick breakfast and by seven-forty, he was in his car on his way to work. Traffic wasn’t too bad because he took a back road to the middle school that most parents and other teachers didn’t know about.

He walked in and put on his most convincing smile for the older woman Maria who worked at the sign-in desk. She greeted him enthusiastically, gave him his key and substitute folder, and told him which room he’d be in today. He walked down the hallway to the classroom like he had done a hundred times and probably like he would do a thousand more.

Eight o'clock first period started. Jack gave the students the assignment their teacher had left, but it was short and they finished it too quickly. The words Behave for the sub OR ELSE were written on the board behind him, but it didn’t seem to change anyone’s mind.

Second period started at nine-o-five, and those kids behaved a little better, or at least they were quieter. During class, Jack read an email from his landlord about not being able to come by this week to repair the leak in the closet. Jack wrote back that it was all good and they should give it a try next week instead.

Ten-ten came and Jack gave the same assignment to period three. They weren’t as loud as first period, but besides that it was all pretty much the same. Afterwards, it was lunch. Jack ate in the classroom, and his computer died halfway through. It was always dying like that, even on a full charge. He closed it and tried to focus on his lunch. He had salmon and quinoa.

Twelve-twenty was fourth period and the kids were quiet. Jack was quiet too.

At one-twenty-five, fifth period started and Jack got an email that his tax return would be delayed because it was sent to a checking account in Iowa. He tried to go to the website he used to file his taxes but the school wifi blocked it. He used his phone data instead, but it turned out the tax company’s instant chat was down so he'd have to call after work. Sixth period was at two-thirty, and someone had erased the note that had been written on the board.

School was out at three-thirty. Jack waited for all the students to leave and locked up the classroom. He stopped by the office and handed in the key to Maria, and she said the same thing she always did, “seventy-five!”

“A hundred-and-eighteen more to go!” Jack answered. His smile wasn’t any more real than it had been that morning. He didn’t particularly like counting down the days, but it made Maria smile every time, and that was worth it at least.

The parking lot behind the school was never as crowded as the front lot. Most of the parents didn’t know it was there. Jack pulled out his phone and dialed the number from the tax website. It began to ring, and something hit him so suddenly and with such an incredible intensity that he almost dropped his phone.

He suddenly knew something was happening and it was happening somewhere close by.

What it was exactly, he couldn’t say. His reaction was instinctual, almost automatic. It was almost as if he sensed something on the wind, just the tiniest bit of a feeling. It wasn’t quite a smell or a sound, but it was familiar — very very familiar.

“Hello, you’ve reached Ultra Tax Solutions, please listen carefully as our menu options have changed.”

What was that? he thought to himself. What just made me feel that way? What gave me that feeling?

“Presione dos para continuar in Español. Press one or stay on the line to continue in English.”

I could have sworn I’ve… felt that before. Jack looked up and down the parking lot. Everything was exactly as it had been before. Nothing had changed, but something had made him feel different and it made him feel different very quickly.

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“Press three to file a request for existing tax documents. Press four to speak to our claims department.”

There was a beat-up, rusty dumpster to the left of him a couple of hundred feet away. For whatever reason, he felt like that was the direction the feeling was coming from. He thought about walking over and looking at it. In fact, he wanted to walk over and look at it. In his mind's eye he almost could see himself putting his phone in his pocket and walking across the parking lot to see what was going on, but he didn’t, because why should he? If it was what he thought it could be, it would just be disappointing. Plus, the thought of someone potentially seeing him – A teacher or parent or even one of the students. Jack imagined them watching him walk across the parking lot looking like an idiot. No one wants to look like an idiot.

It’s just a dumpster.

“Press five to speak to a representative.”

Jack looked down at his phone. His mind now began to fill with thoughts of his rent being due soon, the new computer he wanted to buy, and the spark plugs his car needed. He looked back up toward the dumpster.

"Press six to hear the menu items again.”

It’s nothing, he told himself. Some sound just reminded me of something I used to know. He checked around him on either side to make sure no one had been watching him before looking down again and pressing the number on his phone. Just my brain crossing wires.

“We’re connecting you now with a representative. Please stay on the line.”

Jack turned toward his car and reached into his jacket for his keys. He opened the door and sat down inside. He put his key in the ignition, but before he turned it he stopped again.

It’s a portal.

Jack closed his eyes hard. No. Stop. You promised. You promised you wouldn’t. You’ll just be disappointed again. The hold music from Ultra Tax Solutions began to play softly from his phone. It was some sort of jazz. Don’t do this to yourself. He turned up to the rearview mirror, looking himself right in the eyes. Don’t.

For a moment he sat there, listening to the awful, staticky jazz. He tried shooing away the urge to go investigate. Slowly he looked at himself again in the mirror, and only a moment later he had already sprung from his car and was sprinting across the parking lot.

Over the sound of his ragged breaths, he couldn’t even hear Ultra Tax Solution’s saxophone.

It's a portal I know it. As Jack neared the dumpster his heart felt like it was going to beat out of his chest. He didn’t really run at the gym nowadays, it was pretty much just jumping rope or inclined walking. This short burst of activity was something his body wasn’t accustomed to. He slowed to a stop and looked around the outside of the dumpster for a moment. Is it inside? What’s gonna be there? What if it’s–

No, don’t think about it. Don’t let yourself think about it. You’re going to freaking disappoint yourself again and you hate that so STOP! He took a deep breath and looked inside.

A dizzying view met his eyes.

Shattered remnants of a million angles broke through the air in multicolored rays. Jack immediately felt like throwing up, it was the same sort of disorienting nausea that he had felt all those years ago, the same kind he had felt only a handful of times in his life. His heart rose to his throat in anticipation, but the feeling was short-lived.

As he looked closer he did see a different world through the rip in reality, but the world was nothing but a burning fathomless void. A million miles of cosmic, pulsating flames spread out in every direction — a pinpoint in space a million, billion miles away from any sort of life. This wasn’t his world, it wasn’t Nymia, not even close. The portal opened out into an inhospitable expanse of burning radiation and he would be killed the second he crossed over.

“Hello this is Andrea with Ultra Tax Solutions, and who do I have the pleasure of speaking with today?”

Jack held the phone up to his ear and shielded his vision from the flames that licked the sides of the portal. “Jack Ledger."

“Well, Jack it’s nice to be speaking with you today.”

To say it was a disorienting feeling to be looking out into an unending expanse of cosmic fire while speaking on the phone about his tax return would have been an understatement. If anything illustrated the absurdity of how reality had so far dealt with Jack's life, it was this. On one hand was a functioning wormhole leading away from Earth to a reality probably an infinite number of worlds away, on the other hand, there was Andrea from Tax Solutions.

Jack continued to watch as the portal began to collapse, humming and sputtering as it folded in on itself, finally obscuring the view of the space beyond and disappearing with a deep zip and pop.

“It’s nice to be talking to you too Andrea,” Jack said before turning slowly and walking back toward his car.

It was three-forty-three.