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Adventure Fiction Science Fiction

Time, Again

By JOY DEEP SAHA

Before we met, he showed me his journal.

I must admit that this series of events still puzzles me as I think you must be puzzled by my choice to leave your life so abruptly. I've gone over everything in my mind over and over again and can't get rid of the sense that everything is somehow jumbled up. While this may seem like a flawed argument, it is reason enough to me. I don't understand it. Therefore, I'm going.

Before we met, you showed me your journal, and then we had sex on the hardwood floor of your living room. I still recall how the plants screened the sunshine and how the kettle gathered steam. At the foot of the bed, wondering where you've gone.

"I don't know," I replied, "I hope you come back soon."

Today I walked inside your studio and discovered that you created a gallery out of it. The first picture of every roll of film we processed was there someplace. I discovered out that I could go out with anybody, even them. That hadn't occurred yet. They appeared to continue forever, a tangle of pleasant recollections, each partly veiled by the dazzling light source. I tipped over a massive jar of bolts; however, when I came to pick them out, I got dizzy, I had to leave.

I tipped over a massive jar of bolts; however, I got dizzy when I came to pick them out, and I had to leave.

We were madly in love in your basement when you informed me about spacetime.

You claimed the future was as accurate as of the past. You told me just because you're not there doesn't mean it's not genuine. You claimed it felt like Baghdad was still real while you were in London. You talked about personal time and beams of light and room to kneel, and I comprehended nothing except the way your breasts moved and your breath fogged with cold. Then we were on a rollercoaster ride when you screamed and said, "It will be like this all the time. A balloon salesman lost control of his goods as they soared magnificently in the sky.

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After introducing yourself, we continued our date, and I questioned you again why you chose to go to a drive-in theater. You informed me that you had a particularly warm place for movies in your heart. You claimed it was something lovely about the severity of the Whole. You claimed they attracted to our imaginations in a manner that budget movies can't carry off.

They stated that all science fiction, no matter how sad it is, was optimistic because it would get them expected that there would be a future at all. We were in a boardroom, and you described the machine to the gathered group of investors. They grinned and nodded their heads. They didn't really understand, but the experts had assured them their concept seemed reasonable, and soon it was warm, the coffee tasted awful, and I shifted in my chair. You were dazzling. Nobody thought of asking what would happen if the machine broke.

Nobody thought of asking what would happen if the machine broke.

Today I noticed an egg on the kitchen floor. It produced a weird boom when the final piece of eggshell adhered to it. It soared up and down and finally stopped at the counter. A chopper screamed above. Then my child came over and told me he was frightened he didn't know what to say to him. The battle has begun, and no one can predict how and when it will finish.

I recall your response after reading this letter. I remember how the final sentence when I started, "We weren't meant to live this way," made you weep, and you went to our kid and attempted to explain to him that I was gone. But how can it be explained? What does "away" imply for a kid his age? So we were laying together beneath the sky, and as the first fireworks went out, you leaned over and kissed me for the first time. . You tasted like popcorn. I can't blame you for selecting a new spouse.

When you eventually came back, you were younger. I believe it was the most challenging thing for both of us. We no longer shared the same memories. You embraced me and assured me everything was going to be great, that you barely changed. But I believe we both now realize it wasn't true at all. Time has transformed people; that's how it works.

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Today I went to the basement and looked at the machine. I still remember the day you switched it on. You will stand in front of a throng of reporters with our kid and your new spouse by your side, making your speech about the oppression of time and death and the victory of science and our freedom. But inwardly, you may be thinking, "I wish I were here to witness this." I know this since before we met, you showed me your journal and wrote about that day; how could you not? Asked me. To halt it. There is nothing I can do. The future is as real as the past. There is no before or after; it never was for you.

We weren't intended to live like this.

The End

Author's Bio: I am a writer from Agartala, India. I got interested in writing from the very beginning of my life; from then, I have written countless articles, research papers, short stories, fiction, non-fiction, poetry, and many things for various local, national, and even some international newspapers, as well as magazines and I, also do freelance writing and related work like editing of the articles on newspaper and more.

Please feel free to comment on how did you feel after reading this.

I would love to hear how everybody feels about the story as I am a new science fiction writer.

July 25, 2021 11:27

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