A Glimpse of Her World

Margaret sees her ex who helps her realize she can be with him in a world not so far away.

His scent lingered in the air, filling my lungs with forgotten desire. For a moment, the heaviness of the world collapsed around me. His presence enlightened me, and all other noise came to a halt as whispers dripped from his luscious lips.
         "You haven't aged a day, Margaret." Cigars and expensive cologne wafted inside as the front door shut behind.
         "Is that you, Oliver?"
         "It's me, darling." The weight of Oliver's soul pressed against my own as he neared. "May I sit?" He taunted me, toying with my emotions, and rested on the cushion beside me.
         "Where..." I trailed off. I could do nothing other than stare into his glorious blue eyes, their brightness holding me in an embrace I'd longed after for years. And the warmth of his smile melted my brain. For I, a mere victim to heartbreak and betrayal, faced the only man I ever loved. And though my sorrow radiated in my aching bones, his existence exalted my irrationality.
         "Speak, my love." His gaze fell upon me, tracing my figure.
         "Where have you been?" I spoke with a hushed voice which travelled a million miles. My breaths danced across neurons of spirits belonging to an alternate world undiscovered by our kind.
         "I needed..." Oliver started. "I needed to see you once more."
         "I was told you had died." Images of marriage and a happy life swirled in my mind. "And if you're alive, I presume she is also alive."
         "Who is she?" Oliver grazed his open palm along my nightgown.
         "The woman you sold our love to." Anger grew in me as I awaited his answer. A thousand memories played in my head. I loved that man, only to be placed aside for a younger woman who could move the way I knew he longed for me to move. But age took me by the hand and dragged me into the pits of anguish—a pit my husband could not endure.
         "Margaret, in my life, you cease to exist. And in your life, it is the same for my own fate." He caressed my face, dragging his index fingers along my jaw. "From a different world, in a different time, you still look magnificent."
         "Who are you?" I pressed into him, tears forming. "Come back to me, please, Oliver."
         "The man you loved is not me. But you will see me again."
         "Oliver, please."
         "Don't you think it's time to go back now?"
         "Back to where? To us? We can start over."
         "That's not what I meant!" Oliver stood, towering over me. "You must learn to let him go. Find me in a world beyond your own, and do not stop yourself from seeing us. Go back to your world now, my love."
         "Oliver!" I reached for him.
         His body turned to ripples, blending into the background behind him. And alone, I sat in a dark living room with nothing but a frayed, worn couch to hold me.
         And still, voices echoed in the back of my mind.
         The television lit the room in a cool blue tone, illuminating a bottle of pills—pills that altered my mind.
         But no more.
         I listened to the hum of the toilet's water spinning. My medication bounced off the porcelain bowl, sinking into an abyss where I could never reach them.
         The doorway opened to the outside world—by my own hand and by the will of my otherworldly belonging. And with nothing in my body to prevent the sight of beings beyond the naked eye, I walked along the empty road. Our worlds, beginning to combine—only through my eyes—shone in the dim moonlight cast by the god of our times.
         Dragons flew above, exhaling flames throughout the sky. And with them were carriages being led by centaurs, who galloped on the clouds amidst the stars. People on the ground stared as I waved and greeted while I searched for my Oliver, my spirit entranced by the lives of a society that was invisible to others.
         Hallucinations to some, but ridded of their minds with each pill swallowed that prevented their capabilities of sight—but I chose to no longer follow those arrogant standards that our timeline's population believed in.
         Antipsychotics. What does it mean to be psychotic? To see a world that no one else can see? Then let me be.
         Schizophrenia was nothing but a term that was used as an excuse to enclose me in the inability to experience my truest surroundings.
         So I continued walking down that darkened road until our worlds merged into one.
         "I'm coming home, my love."

767 words
Written for:
"The Writer's Cramp" 
Prompt: Include the line, "That's not what I meant!"
"Philosophical Musings" 
Prompt: The Multiverse