My brother vanished 13 years ago. We searched for years and ended up losing all hope. Last night, I stopped at a gas station, a man walked past me, wearing my brother’s leather jacket. The patches, the worn sleeve—it was his.
I shouted, “Adam!” The man turned, his face went pale. Then, he started to walk away from me quickly. He got into his car and drove away without turning back.
All of a sudden, my phone chimed. It was a text from my mother: “I hope you’re okay. I just had a bad dream about you! You had disappeared, just like your brother. Please come home fast.”
I froze. My mother never texted me out of the blue like this, let alone shared her dreams. The coincidence felt eerie.
Tonight, I went back to that gas station at the same time, hoping to see the man again. But he was nowhere to be found. I never told my mom—I didn’t want to worry her. But I can’t shake the feeling that something is terribly wrong.
