The Museum of Almosts opens without fanfare in a converted warehouse. Inside, exhibits display choices not taken. A sign reads, "Touch nothing; imagine everything." In one room, a door labeled "Graduate School" stands ajar, showing a desk covered in overdue papers. In another, a staircase leads to "Move to Montreal," complete with snow boots and a missing scarf. Visitors wander through versions of their own lives. The docent, a soft-spoken man named Callum, explains exhibits shift depending on who enters. When Laila visits, she finds an "Almost Married" display featuring a wedding dress she once tried on. She feels both relieved and sad.
Callum notices and offers a seat. He says the museum is not about regret but about honoring the selves we could have been. Laila returns weekly, exploring different wings. She discovers an "Almost Published" corner where her manuscript rests with sticky notes of praise from imaginary editors. Inspired, she revisits her draft at home. The museum adjusts, the "Almost Published" exhibit fading, replaced with "Work In Progress." Not everyone reacts well. Some visitors leave in tears, overwhelmed by roads not taken. The museum adds a reflection room with tea and journals. Over time, the city embraces the Museum of Almosts as a place to check in with the multiverse. Tourists leave notes for their alternate selves, tucked under exhibit props. Staff never reads them. The building hums with unchosen possibilities, and occasionally, new choices being made because someone took a quiet walk through what almost was. The exit sign reads, "Take something, leave nothing," and most people understand it is not talking about souvenirs.
On the museum's anniversary, they unveil a new exhibit: "Almost Museum." It shows plans for the museum had it never opened—dusty boxes, empty rooms, a sign never hung. Visitors laugh, realizing even the museum has an alternate life. Laila donates her finished manuscript to the "Finally" section, a wing created for outcomes that left the realm of almost. It is small but growing, proof that imagining another path can sometimes make you brave enough to walk one.