The glow from my laptop's message lingered long after the text faded.
"Observation begins. Please make one unexpected choice."
Unexpected? For a guy who planned meals based on the expiration dates of yogurt, "unexpected" wasn't in regular rotation.
I paced my shadow-stuffed apartment, wrestling with possibilities. Should I order pineapple on pizza? Wear socks with sandals to the corner store? Confess to my neighbor that yes, it was me who accidentally took her recycling bin last month? None of that seemed to rise to the occasion—or to whatever cosmic authority was impatiently waiting.
Fine. Universe, you want weird? I'll give you weird.
I grabbed my umbrella (sunny outside now, of course), slid into shoes I'd sworn off, and decided to follow the very next impulse my synapses sparked.
Down the stairs, my toes protested each squeak. Halfway to the lobby, I heard music—someone playing the piano in the empty common room. It was haunting and beautiful and absolutely not a regular occurrence.
Without thinking, I pushed open the door and walked straight to the grand piano. The guy behind the keys wore headphones, eyes closed in the kind of concentration you reserve for either art or competitive Jenga.
I sat down beside him and, louder than intended, said, "Can you play something happy? Sweet Caroline, but, like, existential?"
He looked up, surprised—maybe at my presence, maybe at my damp umbrella and what must've been a wild-eyed expression. He pulled off his headphones, uncertain.
"You alright, man?"
"Just following instructions," I said. "Something unexpected."
He grinned, rolled his shoulders, and slid into a cheesy, off-key, but oddly soulful version of "Sweet Caroline." On the chorus, I belted out my best "bum bum bum," echoing off the windows with embarrassing intensity.
Soon, two more strangers joined—one clapping along, the other humming off-beat. It morphed into a spontaneous, awkward, slightly magical, living room concert.
If the universe was watching, at least it was getting a show.
As the impromptu jam ended, my phone buzzed. A new message appeared, as if conjured by applause.
"Unexpected choice registered. Observation continues."
I exhaled.
Was this really it? The beginning of something enormous, disguised as a small, strange act? Maybe the test wasn't heroism, but the willingness to surprise even yourself.
Back upstairs, feeling absurdly lighter, I found a second envelope slipped under my door. No name. No address.
Inside, a single note:
"Good job, Alec. Your next challenge arrives when you least expect it."
Of course.
I might as well keep my umbrella handy.
End of Chapter 3