Papers and plastic bags have piled on the basement floor. She's lingered there for hours, sorting out and labeling what needs recycling and what goes to the trash. Exhausted, she exhales and and sits down in the corner to catch her breath and cool down. An outworn small wooden box grasps her attention. Her fingers reach out to the rusty lock and manage to open the mystery box, unveiling a cluster of photos amid other things she can't make out. She picks a photo of teens lining around a birthday cake, a chuckle flees her mouth.
My sweet sixteen!
Flickers of the old days float to the surface of her mind. Back then, she was a typical fool; irresponsible and dreamy. She used to be aimless and clumsy, her priority was her looks, and her worst nightmare was missing the prom.
I'm all grown up now.
Her eyes glisten with tears.
Shuffling through the pictures, warmth rush into her system as flashbacks of her old life pop before her eyes. She bursts out laughing when the memory of a guy who lived next door nudges her, how on earth could she have a crush on a boy with that length of hair or that amount of smoke coming out of his mouth?! She believed, like most girls back then, that manhood was measured by how "funky" one looked. How naive!
The squeak of the door behind her draws her back to reality, and she turns to face the little girl standing at the doorstep.
"Hunnie, what brought you down here? Have you finished your cereal?" The girl nodded.
"Bravo! Let's make you a sandwich!"
The mystery box has to wait on the floor until the little girl is fed.
YOU ARE READING
Intersections
Short StoryRevelations and contemplations on random strangers who cross your path.
