M L Gammella’s Picture Choice: Both
Title: Another When Part 1
The book teased and cajoled me with the mystery of its contents. The modest brown cover mocked me with its seemingly innocent contents. What harm was there in a book? In the knowledge it could bring? Didn't that old PSA tout "The more you know, the more you grow?"
I reached out and caressed the soft, leather cover. The edges were a little worn but the gold foil lettering was still glossy. I wondered how many others had touched the cover of the book with such reverence.
"The Philosophy of Time Travel. What could you possibly tell me that could give me any guidance on what I'm about to do?"
The book didn't answer, not that I expected to get one.
There wasn't anything in the book that could dissuade me from what I planned to do. No mere words could stop the ache in my heart, the emptiness of my soul without her. The only thing that could stop my long suffering was her, to see her, to touch her, to talk to her. It was all her. It was always about her.
“I miss you,” I whispered to the photo that rested on my worn desk.
Gently, I slipped it out of the frame and held it between my papery fingers. The picture of Margaret had started to fade with age. It could fade to nothing and I would still remember what she looked like. The last image of her would remain burned into my retinas and into my mind until my last breath.
I was there when the photo was taken. I was the one behind the lens. We were in the field behind her house, talking about our future. Her shirt shone like fire in the setting sunlight with strands of her soft blonde hair stirring gently in the wind. Every so often, a bit of wild, winter wheat would brush her cheek, making her giggle.
I loved her giggle. I loved her. I love her still.
I miss her so much.
My hands shook, the picture trembling so much it looked like her hair was blowing in the wind once again. I put the picture back in its frame before I ruined it.
I took another moment to examine what my life had become, the old, worn desk, the dimly lit room, various papers and books stacked about. My life lacked the warmth it once had. It died when she did.
But, in another time, she wasn’t truly dead, was she? She lives on, in another place, in another when … and I will find her.
M L Gammella lives in Ohio with her husband and their three pets. She is currently working on her first novel, a paranormal suspense based in Maine. Please follow her at @MLGammella and visit her website at Onward to the Written Word.