Before We Met

Photo by Josep Castells on Unsplash

Remember that time, before we met, when we were in the eye of the storm? There was an eerie calm and a light breeze, while above our heads lightening cracked the bruise-coloured sky and all around us thunder boomed and rolled.

I know you don’t remember. You don’t remember because when you came back; you were younger. It was a change for both of us. You held me tight, on that first night, and told me everything would be the same. But how could everything be the same when you didn’t remember what it had been like when you were older?

Your machine would change everything. You always knew it would, because it always had. I remember the first time you told me about space-time. You told me that just because the future hadn’t arrived yet; it didn’t mean it hadn’t happened yet. I didn’t understand.

I still don’t.

But all I know now is that you come and go. All I know now is one minute I’m in the office and the next I’m thirty years into the future, and back again, and I never know if you will be there.

Before we met, we were in the eye of the storm. You yelled, above the thunder, that you didn’t mean for this to happen. I didn’t know what you meant.

I still don’t.

Maybe I’ll find the answer next time I go back to the storm before we met.

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David is an author and freelance writer. He has two short story collections available, and his non-fiction work has appeared on The Mighty, WhatCulture and Just Football, among others.

Navigating parenting with a disability and trying to write a novel. Email:

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