Tiebreaker
Time Space Warp #49
Hey—It’s Toffer.
The tie was a mistake.
Estimated read time: 3 minutes
I adjusted it again as I walked in.
Didn’t help.
I hate ties. Everyone knows that.
But this wasn’t the day to make a point.
It was a day to prove one.
Important meeting.
Money on the table.
Reputation in play.
I had rehearsed the pitch, the slides, the rhythm.
What I hadn’t rehearsed was this.
The elevator.
It closed behind me with a heavy metallic snap.
I was alone.
Almost.
Three mirrors.
Left.
Right.
Front.
They weren’t polished.
They weren’t trying.
But they saw everything.
And right now, they saw me.
I looked forward.
Front mirror.
It was me. But not the packaged version.
Not the pitch-deck headshot.
This one was breathing too shallow.
Jaw clenched.
Shoulders slightly hunched.
The Self.
He wasn’t impressive.
But he was present.
That’s the thing they never tell you—
Being here takes work.
No one claps for it.
No one even notices.
But this version wasn’t hiding.
And that counts for something.
I turned slightly. Left.
That version stood straighter.
Looser.
Like the day had already gone well.
Higher Self.
He didn’t look back.
He didn’t need to.
He had already won the meeting, rewritten the narrative, posted about it with three takeaways and a photo in good lighting.
He’s useful, sometimes.
He gets things done.
He pushes.
But he also makes now feel like not enough.
He’s always two floors up.
And somehow, I’m always late.
Right side.
Older.
Heavier.
Not in body. In memory.
Origin.
He didn’t say a word.
But I knew every line in his script.
The time I froze.
The thing I didn’t say.
The thing I did say.
The deal I watched walk out the door.
He carried every version of failure that wore a tie.
I know him too well.
He’s not cruel.
He’s just... cautious.
He wants to keep me safe.
Which is fine,
unless I actually want to move.
I looked forward again.
The Self.
Still breathing.
Still unsure.
Still here.
And this time,
I didn’t flinch.
Didn’t fix the tie.
Didn’t run the pitch in my head again.
I just stood there.
Let the others stare.
They weren’t going anywhere.
But I was.
Elevator dinged.
I stepped out.
Removed the tie.
Your Friend in Time,
Toffer