I Know-Short Story
In a flash, I am standing outside the building where I worked as a teenager. I suppose I could have gone somewhere more interesting, maybe to witness the Kennedy assassination, but I know that’s already been done. I know no one would come here. Why would they?
I won a free trip back in time in a work contest. The technology is new, but not untested.
I suppose you’re wondering why on earth someone would choose an uneventful night in January 2019 to travel back in time to, let alone to then go to their old place of employment, an old truck shop.
Maybe it’s to undercover a secret. Some may propose.
Maybe to spy on others to use as blackmail. Some may say.
Maybe it’s a dumb choice made out of the sentimental longing for a time past. The time machine tech says, interrupting my monologuing.
The truth is none of the above. I am here because of the misery I was in at this point in life. Depressed, anxious, confused about my future, unsure of what I wanted to do with my time on the planet, afraid of how fast time was moving, and most of all, hating where I was and who I was.
Why on earth would someone want to return to a time so full of misery? Some might ask.
Because this building is gone in the future I know. They built another off-ramp right through where the parking lot used to be. Now there’s a gas station and a drive-thru here. The company was forced to close it’s doors after most everyone abandoned the trucking business. I was long gone by then, working on my fourth novel. I didn’t even know until months later when I drove by while I was in town for Christmas.
That doesn’t answer my question.
Look through that window. See that desk right there. See the girl sitting there, staring down at the desk. That’s me, and I’ll bet you five bucks I am reading on my iPad. January 2019? Probably some sort of fanfiction.
That still doesn’t answer my question!
She’s sad. She hates this job, but she loves the people she works with. At this point, I think she’s had a twitch in her right eye for about a month. Wait, look there. See her expression as she answers the phone?
Yeah, she looks miserable. You just said you were miserable here.
I worked here for another six months.
That still doesn’t answer my question.
I want to tell her everything. I want to tell her that she’ll finish her novel, and it will be published. I want to tell her she goes back to school, loves it and aces it. I want to tell her she comes out and survives. I want to tell her that she finds love. I want to tell her that she finds family. I want to tell her that she makes family too, lots of it. I want to tell her about the kids. I want to tell her that we’re not done yet. I want to tell her that there is so much more to life than working evening reception at a truck shop. I want to give her something to look forward to. Something to count down to. Milestones that she knows she will hit. I want to give her hope.
You can’t.
I know.
I’m sorry.
I know.