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Rated: E · Fiction · Relationship · #2241449
Reminiscing about the past before the future changes everything
She used to have long hair. A waterfall of beautiful silk that occasionally reached her waist. Every now and then she'd ask me to cut it just a bit shorter, but “just a bit” often ended up being seven or eight inches as I kept trying to even up the ends.

Today, her hair is much shorter, not as silky, and fake. Her real hair is only a memory, saved in a few photos on the bedroom wall. Oh, there also are her high school and college yearbook photos, but she was following trends of the time, and neither of us likes to be reminded of those looks. (And the same goes for old pics of me, I'm afraid.)

We don't take long bike rides anymore. And she doesn't go to the gym for aerobics, or participate in the annual 5K. These days, I drive her to the town square, and we sit on a bench to watch squirrels and talk about our shared experiences over forty-two years. Then I hold her hand as we walk slowly back to the car.

She's told only her closest friends, and they try to treat her like there's nothing wrong, because they know she doesn't like to be pitied. So when the time comes, several people who knew her, but not that well, are going to be surprised to read the news.

As for me, who knows. How can one predict such situations? I'll deal with that when I have to. Until then, I plan to appreciate everything we have together, one minute at a time. Because that's all we can do.
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