Marcus walked in. Old. Limping. But alive. He carried two bags of groceries. “Yo, sleepyhead. I got the good plantain. You gonna help with dinner or just sit there?”

“What happened to the other me?” Joe whispered. “The one who made the wrong choice?”

Joe stared at his hands. They were still fat. Still old. But they were his . And for the first time in thirty years, he wanted to stand up.

Joe ignores the record deal. He stays in the studio. He and Marcus cut the track together. They flop commercially but build a local community. They get old. They get fat together. They laugh. The world changes, but they change with it.