The Auction of Your Tomorrow

The hammer falls, and five years of your life are sold to a stranger.

You stand so fast your chair hits the floor.

“You cannot sell my life.”

The Auctioneer checks the ledger.

“I am not selling it. You already gave it away.”

Behind them, a screen lights up:

FIVE YEARS WAITING TO FEEL READY.

The stranger takes the receipt for the years you kept assuming would still be there tomorrow.

The Clerk turns the page.

LOT TWO: EVERY CHOICE YOU MADE SO NOBODY WOULD BE DISAPPOINTED IN YOU.

Half the room raises a paddle.

You almost laugh.

Then the first image appears behind the Auctioneer.

A job you never wanted.

A yes you gave because no felt cruel.

A version of you everyone liked because it asked for nothing.

The bidding climbs.

Marah does not raise her paddle this time.

She looks at you instead.

“How much of your life was really yours?”

The room goes quiet.

Because you do not know the answer.

The black cloth hits the floor.

There is no object underneath it.

Only a mirror.

Above it, one final card reads: EVERYTHING YOU COULD STILL BECOME.

Nobody raises a paddle.

Your stomach drops. “Nobody wants it?”

The Auctioneer looks almost surprised.

“It is not theirs to buy.”

The Clerk turns the ledger toward you.

Every page behind you is stamped GONE.

Every page ahead is blank.

“Your past was sold the moment you stopped choosing what to do with it.”

Then the Auctioneer places the hammer in your hand.

“But tomorrow has never belonged to anyone else.”

You cannot buy back the life you postponed.

But you can stop putting the rest of it up for auction.