James rolled out of bed groggy and aching from head to toe. He had had one too many drinks last night and could barely remember how he got home. He sat up in his wrinkled bed causing his brains to, what seems to, ricochet around in his skull. He sat their for a minute with his palms over his eyes to shield the blinding light that peered from around his dim see-though maroon curtains. After the world stopped, well slowed its rotation around him he pushed himself up slowly off of the mattress. He forced his body to the bathroom connected adjacent to his bedroom.
He finally reached the sink and her turned on the water, cupped some of the streaming liquid in his hands, and splashed it on his face. As he did so he got a good look at his face in the 7x10 inch mirror embedded in to the wall. Saying he looked like shit was putting it simply. He dark hair was all waggled and bedridden. His eyes wore a reddish hue around the lids and in the whites of his eyes. Bottom lip was busted and ached when he felt the wound with his wet hand. He had a rock sized lump on his forehead that he knew not where it came from but from the looks of it he either got hit my a semi-truck or got his ass beat in a fight at the bar.
Three loud bangs at his door broke him out of his effort to remember what happened after going out to drink. "I'm commin' I'm commin'." he said at the door.
He stepped out of the bathroom and stumbled over a pile of clothes to his dresser by the bed. Another three bangs at his apartment door proceeded just to piss him off. "HOLD THE HELL UP!" He yelled anger now clearing his head a bit. "I already told her that I will have he money next week..." he grumbled to himself.
Grabbing a shirt and putting it over his bare chest then he stepped to his door. He undid the double lock and flung it open to find, not the older nuisance of a landlady but a slightly shorter man in a black suit with a balding widows peak and a black briefcase tucked under his left arm like it contained something important.
Before the man could say a word James said, "I'm not buyin'." and slammed the door in the mans face and turned away to take a step towards his kitchen when another series of knocks hit his door. Head pounding at each loud reverberation he turned back and opened the door again. "What the hell do you want man?" irritation clear in James' voice.
The man looked at James for a second as if he was making sure he was the right person. Shaking his head to himself as if confirming that he was right the man started to talk. "Sir. I have information that you will need to know. It will save your life because you will die before this day is up." James was about to slam the door on his face when the man speed along to the bulk of his message. "I have proof to show you. Proof that I am from the future and proof of you impending demise. Just give me a second to show you." He looked in to James' eyes waiting for an answer then he added, "Please..."
James sighed and guessed he needed some amusement or he still wasn't right in the head. "Fine you have five minutes before I kick your ass so lets get this over with." The suited man nodded and reached in to his briefcase and pulled out a news paper and handed it to James. "Here is your proof." was all he said as he gauged James reaction as he read the heading article which titled in big bold James Marlow, brutally murdered in his apartment... "James what the fuck is this shit? Its dated for tomorrow!" James looked up and asked but the man was gone. The only thing to prove that this wasn't a dream was the olde news paper that hadn't even been published yet. "Well shit..." Was all he said as he closed his door. He collapsed on his bed still gripping the paper with trembling hands as he read and reread the article again and again.