Tyler's Strange Thoughts

The sound of his keys landing in the metal bowl by the door always reminded Tyler of his father. Too young he had been taken from their family, leaving a teenaged Tyler feeling like he had to be the man of the house, despite his mother's reassurance that he had to do no such thing. Every evening Tyler would work delivering pizzas, every weekend he'd pick up shifts at the grocery store. With all the time he'd spent trying to bring money home, it was a miracle that Tyler graduated high school.

But he did, a great victory that should have been savoured, only to be spoiled once again by tragedy.

Like his father, Tyler's mother, too, was taken from him. This time, instead of cancer, it was quick, unexpected. A drunk driver, a red light, one brief moment, one giant mistake, and Tyler was alone.

No siblings, no grandparents, no aunts, no uncles. All through high school, Tyler had worked far too hard to maintain friendships. No, with his mother gone, Tyler was truly on his own.

The combination of life insurance and inheritance had set Tyler up to be able to have options. Added to that, Tyler sold the family house. Too many memories, too much heartache. No, all he needed was his small apartment and time. It would be a few months before he decided what he wanted, whether it was school or work, but Tyler had promised himself that he would heal before he moved forward. After spending so much time working to take care of his mother, what Tyler really needed was to find out who he was, what it meant to be Tyler Smith.

He walked toward his fridge to grab a beer, then paused. A strange tingle hit his brain, like as if someone was pouring sand on his head, but it was leaking through his skull. Tyler blinked. The feeling didn't pass, but after a moment it didn't feel as intense.

What am I wearing? The thought danced through his mind, a fleeting whisp of whimsey.

Instead of walking toward the fridge, Tyler turned and headed to the washroom. He flicked on the light and took in his image, taking stock of the wardrobe decision he had made so many hours earlier.

Jeans, a shirt, underwear, he thought to himself, confirming what he remembered.

"That was weird," he mumbled, turning off the light and heading back toward that cold beer, still waiting in the dark reaches of the white refrigerator.

You should always dress sexier than that. You're hot. You need lingerie, skirts, tops that show off your cleavage, Tyler thought to himself, pausing in the kitchen while he reached for the door. It was true, he was hot, and now that that thought had come to him, it did seem odd that he not only didn't dress sexier, but that he didn't even own any lingerie, skirts, and tops to show off his cleavage. Stranger still that he didn't have any cleavage.

Okay, he thought, resolved to remedy the situation. He had plenty of money, and nothing better to do, so in the morning he could head to the mall and start shopping. Heck, he could even make a few purchases on the internet that night, getting his toes wet in his new style. Tyler opened the fridge, grabbed the beer, twisted it open, and rewarded himself with a long swig of cold lager.

An image of a man popped into Tyler's mind. He seemed familiar, but for the life of him, Tyler could not place where he had seen him before. Had he gone to Tyler's high school? Was he one of his regular pizza delivery customers? A name appeared in his thoughts, one that he could have dismissed as imaginary, but something in Tyler told him it was true.

Phil.

That man was Phil. Of course, Tyler still couldn't remember where he knew Phil from, but he knew for sure that the man's name was Phil. A moment later a new thought came to mind. Something as true as Phil's name.

Phil was sexy.