Half-Remembered || dreamtupa-goddamn-beach
The die he spun in his fingers told him this wasn't a dream. Coincidence. Arthur never could get himself to believe in it. And yet that's exactly what this was because the only other explanation would be divine intervention, and if he could believe in anything less than coincidence it was that.
Robert Fischer stood on the New York City curb, reading a news paper from the stand across the street from Arthur's favorite espresso shop. Maybe the world was a whole lot smaller than he thought it was after all. He leaned back in his chair at the shop, watching in slight awe at the small statistical anomaly of their paths crossing once more, the decision to tail the other man for a few hours settling quickly in his mind.
The first officially incepted man in the world, and he had no idea. Arthur wondered what he had done with his life after the job was over. It was about time he found out.