Every day I see people running out of time. It is as if they have clocks ticking away on their foreheads, counting down the seconds one by one. In the continuum of life, I am the first to know when someone will die. Occasionally on the street I will see people too young to die, but their timers are down to the last hours. Something inside of me often wishes to step in and tell them, or to somehow save them, but if I did, no one would believe me. The only timer I have never seen is my own. Each morning I look in the mirror to see the hovering numbers that are my death sentence. It is never there.
When I was five years old I still held on to the whimsy that this power belonged to everyone. I didn’t know what the hovering numbers meant, at least not until a clock ticked down to zero right before my very eyes.
It was a sunny morning, and I was sitting on the curb of my suburban home. I had dirt on my feet, popsicle juice on my hand, and not a care in the world. As I sat and daydreamed, my eight-year-old brother Tommy ran up and grabbed my hand. “Let’s go to the woods,” he said. We rambled through the fields and as I ran past him I saw the clock ticking down. I stared in amazement, not knowing what it meant. As it reached 00:25, my brother suddenly collapsed to the ground, writhing and twitching. I looked around for an adult to step in and save him, but there was no one. I ran to him and shook him. “Stop it! Stop it! Stop it!” I yelled. The clock was down to 00:05. I screamed and screamed for someone to help and then the clock ticked 1. That second lasted an eternity. All was frozen as I turned and looked one more time at him. His body convulsed and landed limp on the ground like a rag doll. I looked at him, then at the 00:00 on the clock.  That was when I knew my brother was gone. I wailed and ran hitting a tree until my knuckles were bloodied. I dropped in exhaustion to the ground next to his body and let out a big wave of grief. Why couldn’t I save him? It was all my fault.
This power has been a burden ever since. It leaves me with an overwhelming responsibility. Each time I see a low number on the timers of life, I feel the urge to save them, but most of the time there is nothing I can do. I have no knowledge of how, when, or why they will die. All I know is that it will happen.
Today when I wake up I stare into my girlfriend’s eyes. I trace the freckled slope of her nose to her forehead, and her timer there reads the number 02:25:02. Two hours, twenty five minutes and two seconds. Yesterday it had said she had 50 years to live. I had never seen a number plummet like this before. My head spins. Is she sick? Is someone out to get her? Will she die in a freak accident? My heart speeds up and I hold my urge to tell her she will die in two short hours. I will have to stay with her and protect her. I can’t let her be another Tommy; this time I know what to do.
I shake Jane awake. “Come on. Let’s eat some breakfast,” I whisper. She bats away my hands.
“Come on, Austin! Let me sleep.” She turns over and shoves her head in the pillow. I get out of bed and she stumbles out to follow me. As she is in the bathroom I clench my fists to stop them from shaking uncontrollably. I suck in air, bite my lip, and promise to myself that this time I won’t let it happen. “I’ll save her. I’ll save her,” I say in my head over and over again, almost as if to cover up the uncertainty in the back of my mind.
“Hey, I’m  going to pick up some coffee,” Jane tells me as she grabs her purse and opens the door.
“Wait! I’ll come with!” I scramble to pull on my coat and try to remain calm. By now the clock is on 01:15:16. If I can get her safely to the coffee shop and back before the clock goes out maybe she will be safer. No people to hurt her, and this time I have my phone ready to call the ambulance.
As we wait in the line at the coffee shop, I grow impatient and began to nervously tap my palm to the side of my leg. Jane sees my hand pulsing back and forth and gives me a worried look. The time on her forehead is now at 35:46. The woman in line in front of us stare at the menu and takes what feels like forever to order.
“If you can’t make up your mind, just go to the back of the line,” I snap. Jane gives me an annoyed look and the woman grows red before quickly blustering out a rushed order. I step forward and order our coffee. As we wait, I stare at the ticking clock. I am engrossed in the vanishing life of my girlfriend. All of the sudden I feel Janes expectant stare on my face. “Sorry. What did you say?”
“I just asked you when you have to go to your interview.”
“I don’t. I’m not going.”
The barista places our drinks on the counter. I snatch them, grab Jane’s hand and pull her out the door.
“What do you mean, you aren’t going? You just told me yesterday that you thought you could get this job. What are you going to do? Just sit around and wait for someone to hand you a job?”
“I told you I’m not going. Something came up.” I rush her out the door and glance suspiciously around the street. I walk with my arms wrapped protectively around her waist. A man walks up behind us and I see his hand in his pocket. My hands tense up. In the pocket there must be a gun. I let go of Jane and slam the man against the lamp post. He looks up in surprise and when he removes his hands from his pockets I see there is nothing in them. I apologize and let his body slump to the ground. Jane’s timer has gone down again. I again grab her hand and begin to walk as fast as I can. I pull her down the street. Two blocks left and there is one minute. The ticking begins.
“What the heck is wrong with you!” she questions as she pulls her hands from me.
59...58...57…56...55...54...52...51...50...
“I’m protecting you!”
49...48...47...46...45...44...43...42...
“I don’t need protecting!”
41…40…39...38...37...36...35
“You don’t know that! I’m trying to help you.”
34...33...32...31...30...29...
“Well. I don’t want your help.” She clutches her bag and begins to run down the street as she holds back tears.
28...27...26…25...24…
“Jane!” I scream “come back!”
23...22...21...20...19...18…
“You really don’t know how much of a jerk you are right now, do you?” She shakes her head and continues on.
17...16...15...14...13...12...11…
My breath becomes ragged. Time is running out. The girl I love is running straight into her death. I sprint after Jane.
10...9...8...
A man rounds the corner.
7...6...5…
He approaches Jane.
4...3…
I lunge and jump. I throw my body over her to protect her.
2…
Jane’s shoe slips on the curb and she falls back.
1…
A cab rounds the corner.
0…
The car strikes Jane.
…
It was all my fault. Trying to save her, I pushed her right into her death. I pull her slumped body into my arms. I hold her in the same position I held Tommy, and I wail. Soon the sirens surround us and Jane is pulled from my arms. A man helps me to stand up, and as I pass the side mirrors of the taxi, I see my forehead. 03:16.