Tiramisu Prophecy: My Roommate Wants Me Dead
My roommate, Andrew Hayes, has become obsessed with this viral tiramisu place off campus. Every night without fail, he brings a box of it back.
He tries to sell us on it more than once. Supposedly the texture is silky and rich, and it melts in the mouth. I just can't be bothered to care.
Everything changes on the day before the grad school recommendation list is posted.
My pen is moving across the page of a paper when something at the edge of my vision suddenly catches my eye. A few lines of text have appeared.
[Tonight, your roommate, Andrew, will ask you to help him buy tiramisu from that viral dessert shop. After he eats it, he'll rush out of the dorm. The next day, the police will take you away on charges of aggravated assault.
[Online exposés will say you attacked your roommate out of jealousy, and the Internet will explode with outrage. Relentless cyberbullying will consume your life. Even your parents will get dragged down with you and lose their steady jobs. Ultimately, you'll be driven into a mental breakdown and die from depression.]
I figure I've started hallucinating after finally cracking under the pressure, so I toss the workbook aside.
That night, Andrew pushes open the dorm room door. His tone is easy and familiar as he asks, "Luke, grab me a tiramisu on your way back, okay?"
My brain blanks for a second. This scene matches the prediction word for word.
Andrew's smile is bright and sunny as he walks closer, but I only feel a chill down my spine because of one of the prediction's sentences.
[After you're taken in for questioning, you'll miss your interview. The guaranteed grad school spot will fall right into Andrew's lap.]
Is Andrew really going to ruin my entire life over a single guaranteed grad school slot?
My grip tightens around my pen. I say, "Sorry, Andrew. It's not really convenient for me."