{ to be perfectly honest I forgot the assignment so @indiemusee you’re just getting a starter from old man Anthony }
Anthony Williams had gone from struggling author and playwright to wildly successful in the early 1990s with his hit romantic musical “The Lovers That Waited”. A tragic, comedic, impossible heartfelt tale of two kids who fall in love and by some wild circumstance the husband is sent back two thousand years into the past with his wife trapped in a box. They must wait until the box opens, two un-aging souls, desperately in love, unable to answer one another and yet so perfectly in tune they can somehow still know what the other is thinking. Anthony never had another play quiet as inspirational or as massively popular as that one, but it didn’t much matter to Anthony. His dad had been able to hear some of it before he passed. His mother lived just long enough to see him win a Tony for best musical. He wrote music, lyrics and novels and poetry. He was successful enough to live comfortably in the apartment in the city he had grown up in.
It was the year 2022 and Anthony Williams was 76 years old. He often wondered, once the new year came along, walking down the street, waiting in line at the deli, boarding the subway, if he’d spot a familiar face. One that he couldn’t imagine would recognize him. Either from timelines not yet meeting up or the fact that he was now an old man.
He never expected Bill Davies to ring his doorbell. The surprise was evident on his weathered face before he reached up and took Bill’s face in his hands, like a grandfather might, not seeing his grand kid in so many years. He was about Bill’s height now, maybe an inch shorter, having lost a few thanks to old age.
“Well... would you look at that. Hey, Bill.” Anthony pulled the kid in for a hug, tight and suddenly felt emotional. “How are ya, kid? It’s good to see you.”