Time Bomb.

the-persistence-of-memory

Persistence of Memory

Salvador Dali, 1931.


We were similar to those pristine, plastic wrapped notebooks sold in boutique bookstores. The front and back were creaseless, and the identical pages were as white and smooth as snow.

That was us when we were fresh.

It was at that precise moment our paths crossed. The collision of our two worlds tore apart the plastic cover so rapidly; when our eyes first landed on one another, we simultaneously wrote¬†“once upon a time…” together. What proceeded felt as natural as breathing.

It was difficult to preserve something so commonly used. We scribbled and scrawled our pages away and raced with time to produce as much mementos as humanly possible. We were making up for our mutual loneliness that built up before the existence of each other.

Some of the sheets were spilled with ink. A page or ten were dyed and dried with our favorite type of coffee. There were a few accidental tears. The cover began to lose its hue. The back suffered from the faded inkling of repeated scratches.

These imperfections proved the reality of our history. The beginning of time of you and me. There were the highs, the lows, but mainly the plateaus. We went from sprinting to barely dragging. We both wanted to return to the start, to the time we set sight on each other, but we were as lost as we could possibly be.

So we ended up restarting by discarding one another.


via Daily Prompt: Restart

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