David's eyes went wide at the sight of the substantially younger man that now stood at the bus stop. Glancing down, he saw "Only You" was selected under the Awareness heading, locked with a lock icon so it couldn't be changed by accident. Seeing the bus approaching, David quickly hit refresh on the sentence they'd just applied. There was little blank that showed the last active change on it: "An 25 year old white man awaiting the bus."
OK, so this magic app doesn't get picky over grammar, they realized. The new sentence read: "Charles' back was feeling much better." I'll bet, considered David, biting their lip. They hit Refresh to make it give them a new sentence, but like what David was looking for.
Eventually, the sentence was written as "A man in his mid-twenties sees the bus approaching." Quickly, David rushed to move his finger across the screen to quickly swap "twenties" for "eighties". It was at that point that what appeared to happen was Charles became the age he had been a few moments earlier. It would be hard for David to know for certain, but surly, based on the wording, he'd restored the man to how he'd been just a moment ago.
Watching Charles clean his glasses, then place them back onto his face before moving to the opening doors of the bus, David took in everything that had just happened. Apparently, they had just learned magic existed... or otherwise had one of the most vivid dreams ever which, given the time and place, seemed unlikely.
As the bus filled with people from the stop, rain began to fall from the gray sky above, and the driver called to David who was the only person still standing at the bus stop: "You comin', mac?" he asked. Softly, David nodded. They placed one foot forward onto the lowest step leading in, and made for the back-most seat as if he was back in high school.
With this, I could be back in high school. they considered to themselves. Pulling out the phone, the app reopened. They changed the selection from Charles to themselves. "David is very concerned about the power they now hold in their left hand," it said. "No shit," David spoke softly to himself before taking a deep breath. They hit Refresh.
Refresh, Refresh. All true things were written. Simple things about hair color and race and their current mood. Eventually, it said something relevant to them: "There is a hole in David's shirt," it said. They blinked, realizing that that hole had been there for some time. Friends called it out, but David didn't care. They liked the shirt.
But I also wish it didn't have a hole in it, they considered, tapping onto the sentence and swapping is for isn't. And while doing so didn't feel like anything special to David—no wisp of air, no strange scent, nothing otherworldly thing one might sense if they were looking for it—a quick check under the armpit that had long ago ripped out confirmed that the hole was gone.
Yet this resulted in more questions for the aged millennial. What had changed in the universe to accommodate this shirt? Had it never ripped in the first place? Had it been repaired from having ripped? If so, when? Did it actually have no explanation? Did nothing change other than the existence of the hole? Would his friends who had seen him wear it recently inquire when it had been repaired? Questions upon more questions as David's bus moved closer to their home.
As the bus stopped and opened its doors, David could see Charles move to the front of the bus and step off. What were the odds? they wondered. And soon enough, David too was stepping off the bus and walking towards their home just a block away.