“Have you noticed anything strange about your placemat lately?” Dr. Chen asked, adjusting his wire-rimmed glasses. The fluorescent lights of his office cast an otherworldly glow on his patient’s face.

Sarah shifted uncomfortably in her chair. “It… it speaks to me.”

“The placemat speaks?” His pen hovered above the notepad.

“Not with words exactly. But every morning, whatever pattern appears on it comes true that day.” Sarah’s fingers twisted the hem of her shirt. “At first, I thought I was imagining things. A coffee stain shaped like a car - my tire went flat. A crease that looked like a letter - I got fired via email.”

Dr. Chen leaned forward. “And today’s pattern?”

Sarah reached into her bag with trembling hands and unfolded a plain white placemat. In its center, a dark smudge formed what unmistakably looked like a human skull.

“I can’t go home,” she whispered. “I just can’t.”

“Perhaps we’re attributing too much meaning to coincidences,” Dr. Chen suggested gently. “The mind often seeks patterns where none exist.”

“You don’t understand!” Sarah stood abruptly. “Every morning, it’s there waiting. Sometimes I try different placemats, but they all transform overnight. They’re all connected somehow, showing me these… these prophecies.”

The office lights flickered momentarily. Dr. Chen glanced at his watch - 4:44 PM.

“Sarah, please sit down. Let’s explore this rationally.”

“Rational? Look at this!” She thrust the placemat toward him. The skull pattern had changed, now showing two skulls, one wearing glasses.

Dr. Chen felt a chill run down his spine. “Perhaps we should—”

The lights went out completely. In the darkness, Sarah’s voice came as a whisper: “They’re here.”

When emergency services arrived twenty minutes later, they found an empty office. On Dr. Chen’s desk lay two placemats, both pristinely white, showing no patterns at all.

Three weeks later, in a small café across town, a waitress found something peculiar while setting tables. A placemat with two distinct coffee stains - one shaped like glasses, the other like a woman’s profile. As she moved to replace it, the stains began to fade, revealing new patterns underneath.

She blinked, and for a moment, thought she saw words forming: “Your turn now.”

The newspaper headline the next day read: “Missing Psychiatrist and Patient Found Safe, But Changed.” The article detailed how Dr. Chen and Sarah appeared at a local police station, unable to recall the past three weeks. The only items in their possession? Two ordinary-looking placemats.

When interviewed, they spoke in perfect unison: “The patterns are never wrong. They’re just not meant for everyone to see.”

To this day, patrons at that small café occasionally report strange patterns on their placemats. Most dismiss them as simple stains or creases. But some - those who look closely enough - say they can see tomorrow written in the fibers.

The waitress who found those first stains? She doesn’t work there anymore. But sometimes, on quiet mornings, new servers find placemats arranged in peculiar patterns, as if trying to tell a story that’s still unfolding.