Sam had been to hundreds of trade shows.
The networking, the pitches, the awkward “Hey, we met last year, right?” moments—it was all second nature.
But when he arrived at The Global Innovation Summit, something felt… off.
And that’s when he saw it.
Booth 224.
His booth.
The one he had set up that morning.
The one that, right now, was nowhere to be found.
The vanishing act
Sam blinked.
Checked his map.
Checked his event schedule.
Checked his sanity.
Booth 224 was supposed to be right here.
Instead, there was nothing but a stretch of empty carpet.
No banner. No table. No free pens with the company logo. Nothing.
His stomach tightened.
He flagged down an event staffer. “Hey—Booth 224. It was right here this morning.”
The staffer frowned, glancing at the space, then back at Sam. “Booth 224?”
“Yes!” Sam’s pulse kicked up. “My booth. It was here. Now it’s gone.”
The staffer’s polite smile carried the unmistakable patience of someone humoring a man who had clearly lost his grip on reality.
“Sir,” he said gently, “there is no Booth 224.”
The search for the truth
Sam ran to the event registration desk.
The woman at the counter barely glanced up.
“Name?” she asked.
“Sam Carter. Carter & Associates. Booth 224.”
She typed. Frowned.
“I don’t see you in the system.”
Sam’s blood turned cold.
He pulled out his exhibitor badge—but when he looked at it, it didn’t say Exhibitor.
It said ATTENDEE.
His hands shook. “No. No, no, no—there was a booth. I set it up! It was there this morning! I had pens! FREE PENS!”
The woman sighed. “Sir, we don’t have a Booth 224.”
Sam’s breath came fast. “Then where did I go this morning? What have I been DOING?”
She shrugged. “Enjoying the conference, I guess.”
The other Sam Carter
Panic rising, Sam pulled out his phone.
He called his boss.
“Hey,” he said, voice shaking. “Something weird is happening. They say my booth doesn’t exist.”
Silence.
Then:
“…Who is this?”
Sam froze. “What?”
“This is Carter & Associates,” his boss said. “But I don’t know any Sam Carter.”
Sam’s stomach dropped.
“I—I work for you.”
A pause.
“No, you don’t.”
The call was cut off.
The booth returns
Sam stood in the middle of the convention floor.
Surrounded by booths, banners, and people who didn’t seem to notice that he was coming undone.
His head spun. Was this a joke? A glitch? A breakdown?
And then—he saw it.
Booth 224.
It was back. His banner. His table. His stupid branded free pens. But someone else was standing behind the table. A man. Wearing his suit. Smiling his smile. Handing out pens with his company’s logo. The man looked up. Made eye contact. And winked. Sam ran.
The moral of the story?
Trade shows are a strange place.
Maybe you’re the exhibitor.
Maybe you’re the lead.
Or maybe—just maybe—you never existed at all.
