Crinkled Memories

The attic door opened, years of undisturbed dust floating in the sunlight that peaked through the windows encrusted with hints of mold. The attic itself was a mess, really, as one should expect any attic to be, but Lyra knew they held more than years of hoarded junk. She bent down near a brown cardboard box, which seemed to have bumped into a multitude of objects over the course of its lifetime for its corners were bent and worn away. Lyra carefully picked up the stack of graphic novels and crinkled news comics that lay inside and set them tenderly beside the box as if they were something of much more monetary value. Grabbing a dusty stool from the far end of the attic, Lyra brought it over to the neat stack and gingerly sat down as she picked up the first comic. Sitting there, flipping through the pages of the Spider man comic, tears sprang to Lyra's eyes and she brushed them away with a smile, remembering how much her fiance had loved Spider man. She sat there, whisked away in the memories the pages carried. Lyra knew he loved and collected superhero comics with a passion. They were his life and she knew Stan Lee was his greatest idol in life. He looked up to him right until the very end- right until he was unfairly carried away from the cruel and corrupt Earth to the doors of Heaven.

It had been seven years.

. . . . . .

"LyLy! Where are you?" A voice rang out through the cozy home and Lyra chuckled, abandoning the batter she was whisking to make her way to her fiance's studio.

"Coming!" She said back.

Wiping her hands on the kitchen towel, Lyra took off her apron and, moments later, she peeked her head through the little studio's door frame.

"Wait! Don't look!"

Lyra laughed to herself again and replied, "Fine. I won't. But you need to hurry or our pancake breakfast will be ruined."

"We can have our pancakes later, I just need to show you something."

Several minutes later, the same voice beckoned Lyra inside the studio and a couple of comic pages were instantly dancing her front of her eyes.

"Calm down you over hyper bunny! Are these the new comics you just added to your collection?" Lyra asked.

"Yes! Isn't the art wonderful?"

"I'll only be able to tell if you show them to me," Lyra scolded teasingly, trying to maintain a stern tone but failing as she thought about how adorable her bunny of a fiance looked. The pages soon stopped dancing in front of her eyes and were placed into her outstretched palms. Lyra looked down at the pages and her eyes widened. The art looked realistic and she couldn't help but stare.

"Hello? Are you going to stop gaping and give me my comics back so I can officially add them to my collection?"

Lyra was pulled out of her trance-like state of awe and laughed, a mischievous glint in her eyes as she grasped the pages a bit tighter and began to run out of the studio. The confused face of her fiance turned into one with a soft smile and crescent eyes. The sound of laughter echoed throughout the house as the couple chased one another. They collided with each other in the kitchen and flecks of pancake batter landed on the lovers, while the bowl clattered on the floor.

"I guess our breakfast was ruined after all," Lyra said with smile.

. . . . . .

A knock was heard on the attic door. Lyra's best friend, Ada, who had tagged along with Lyra as her emotional support system, was standing in the door way.

"How was it?" Ada asked softly.

Lyra didn't say anything; she grasped her best friend in a tight hug and let her chin rest on Ada's shoulder, focusing all her attention on the hand that combed soothingly through her hair. After what felt like an hour or two, Ada pulled back, concern evident in her eyes.

"Was it too overwhelming? You know, we could go see your therapist again and tell her that it was too much. I'm sure she wouldn't mind."

"No Ada, it was perfect."

Ada grabbed a nearby stool and sat down next to Lyra and watched her as she read the rest of the comics, salty tears threatening to spill any second. Lyra sat there for another hour, wistfully recalling the way her fiance spun her around their living room and the day she had been proposed to. Any onlooker couldn't have guessed how emotionally valuable comics could become to a person, but Lyra knew that the simple cartoons were now also her everything.

. . . . . .

The two friends spent the remainder of the afternoon cleaning up the attic and laughing, while Ada constantly sneezed from the dust.

The pair sprayed the sloping windows and wiped them down. A wary Ada distanced herself from the small pile of dust that she had spotted in a corner and Lyra knocked it over with her feathery duster, the small particles sprinkling everywhere. Cobwebs were brushed away, and the attic smelled like freshly cleaned laundry. By the end of the day, Lyra's cheeks hurt and, gazing upon the amethyst engagement ring that her fiance had given her, she remembered Ada's question and wondered if today really was overwhelming for her.

In truth, walking memory lane again was painful but Lyra felt that it was also enlightening at the same time and, while walking out of the attic with Ada, Lyra hoped that wherever her fiance was, he had all the superhero comics in the world. She hoped that he spent all his time drawing and writing backstories for his characters, just like he wanted to. Lyra hoped that Oliver was all right.

She looked back and whispered, "I love you," a tear falling from her eye.

The attic door was closed and moonlight shone through the freshly cleaned windows, the small tear stain on the floor almost invisible in the enveloping darkness.