REALITY IS ALWAYS STRANGER THAN FICTION. @shininginyourlight DERRY.
" i guess . . . " fiction was exactly what it felt like, even with reality staring straight back at him. impossibly young for people trace had only ever thought of as parents, the rediscovered old photographs held firmly within his grasp clearly displayed a number of people - some slightly familiar, but most not - the main focal point of each being either derry's father, the woman trace occasionally thought of as mom, or both.
while neither of the portrait subjects appeared to be 100% sober ( as far as trace could tell ) there was an airiness to the way they came across that made them both look almost like completley different people. not necessarily happier, but clearly yet to be bogged down by life, responsibilities the last thing on either of their minds. it was . . . it should have been nice, but the more trace looked the more uneasy he became, quickly becoming uncomfortable with the strangers stuck in time.
" don't think i ever noticed just how much you look like your dad. " he would say, shuffling through the stack and hoping to find something that didn't feel like a bad omen. " people tell you that a lot? "







