To describe the 24th of November as a day just like any other is to rob history of a most momentous date - not to mention belittle the significance of every other day leading up to it, and every day that followed.

At a most cursory glance, one can forgive the perception that this frosty late-November day was just like any other in the relatively young life of Myron T. Criswell. The alarm on his nightstand awoke him not once, but four times - the last proving to be the one that stuck, as Myron clambered out of bed, eyes half-stuck and mouth full of paste, and made a beeline directly to the bathroom, accompanied by the urgent “Breakfast!” calls of his mother.

Relieved, washed, brushed, combed, and clothed, Myron proceeded downstairs. So routine was his routine, so mechanical in its familiarity, that you’d almost forgive him for missing the intense hatred that burned in the eyes of his cat, Mr. Whiskers, who stood gazing upon the clueless teen’s frenetic form as Myron made his way down the hall and towards the kitchen, walking right past the seemingly unassuming feline.

You’d almost forgive him for such a monumental oversight.

Almost.

Unfortunately for Myron, it was the first of many unintentional actions that would change his life - and the universe - forever…

And it all happened on a day just like any other.

TO BE CONTINUED…