Brooklyn had not left her house in nearly two weeks; every morning at six on the dot, she went to Mathis’ room to get him ready for school, only to find boxes in place of his toys --- in 2014, she’d just moved out of her parents’ and in to her own place. In 2014, she wasn’t a mother. She could see the date on her not-yet-upgraded phone screen, scrolled through her Twitter feed to confirm everyone else was communicating as if it was still seven years ago, but she reached out to no one. She remained inside, peeking through the blinds and trying to make sense of what was happening, to see if her hallucination would end soon. If it was 2014, she had not yet lost the man she loved.
She held onto wavering hope for as long as she could, until ignorance was no longer bliss, until she was aching for an answer whether it be the one she wanted or not. She had to know, had to face the potential letdown. Did this mean she stood a chance? She could text her old friends’ numbers, if they answered she would know reality had truly been altered in her favor, but she had to see it with her own eyes. And there it was. At the campout, just like she hoped he would be. Proof. She should be ecstatic to see him in front of her, heart still beating, but Zeki wasn’t the reason her lips pulled into a smile. “You’re alive,” she whispered, “you’re really alive.” Which meant --- David was too.
@zzekii
