Nineteen-year-old Nick is sleeping off a drunk in his one-bedroom apartment when he smells the aroma of bacon. He stirs, staggering to the kitchen. He finds a plate on the table with some bacon on it. He starts eating before it hits him: Who cooked this? No one else lives here.
The stove is still warm, and there is a skillet in the sink with some spitting grease in it. His apartment is locked from the inside.
The next morning, he stakes out the kitchen, hoping his visitor will reappear. He does. Nick learns that the visitor is. . . him.
Nick’s guest is frying bacon in the skillet. He finishes and tells Nick to sit.
His guest looks like a fire victim: Splotchy hair, missing eyebrows, one eye gone. His face is sooty, and two deep wounds are oozing on one cheek.
He explains to a doubtful Nick that he is from Nick’s future. The kitchen stove is damaged and will soon cause a bad fire. Nick must tell his landlord this so he doesn’t end up hurt like his visitor. He refuses to tell Nick when the fire will happen because he knows how much of a procrastinator the young man is. He will put the repairs off until there is little to any time left to fix the problem.
The guest makes Nick promise to tell the landlord today. Nick says he will. The visitor, after eating some bacon, fades away.