[Author’s Note: Originally written April 2014]
It was a dream; that he was sure of. Although to be more accurate it was a memory of a dream, a vastly different thing. It was as vivid to him as last Tuesday. There was nothing particularly fascinating about last Tuesday but only in the sense that it was recent history. Some memories are like old photographs. The more you pull them out and look at them, the quicker they fade. Like an ex-lover’s face, clouded by time. Mouse-brown hair, that’s the first thing you remember. The hair, it’s always the most vivid part of his memory of people. Mouse brown, and at twelve that would be the best way to describe this girl. She was small and meek like a mouse; at least he recalls her being that. Her later bombastic personality would contrast that, but perhaps she had always been bombastic and he had misjudged her character. It was not impossible, he had pretty self-absorbed in his youth. He often used to think about his life like The Truman Show. He was Truman and everyone was in on the idea that his reality was crafted. He no longer thought that. How self-absorbed to think you are the only ‘real’ person. He tried to recall the girl some more. She was small, with teeth that seemed to be too big for her mouth. He liked that about her though. Perfection would be boring. She was interesting. All the women he had been interested in had that factor of interesting.
Zach Eastwood - Writer 