Prompt: https://siobhanmuir.com/thursthreads-tying-tales-together-week-524/
I sat down across from myself. Was I ever really that young?
The youth of his (my) face was betrayed by his eyes, sparkling in the light, but wary, apprehensive, darting away from direct contact.
“You know who I am, right?” He nodded, but only slightly, as if he was waiting for me to tell him how he was wrong.
“It’s alright. This isn’t exactly an everyday kind of thing.” He didn’t respond. I wanted to hug him, and I knew he’d let me, but touching messed up the device that allowed me to be here.
“Anyway, you must have questions.” He just shrugged.
I pointed at my hairless scalp. “1998.”
My wedding ring. “2004, although yours might be different.”
I sighed. There was so much I wanted to say. The ‘How am I doing so far’ question wasn’t just in his head.
“Okay, look. Two things.” I held his eyes. “Fuck ‘em. And run.”
He blushed at the first word. How innocent I was. “Fuck ‘em, you hear me? Everyone who tells you you’re not good enough. They’re wrong. Just wrong.
“It won’t be much longer until you can get out of here. When you do, run. Don’t look back. And when they tell you you’re wrong, that you’re a bad kid, that you’re abandoning your family, what do you say?”
He didn’t speak, but I saw the wheels turning, trying to see a different path forward.
C’mon, kid. You’re smart enough to get this.
“Fuck ‘em?”
“Fuck ‘em.”
Project Gemini 