“What?” I
looked up from the crossword in my lap that was crinkled ever so slightly from
my frustration"what is a four letter word for fleeting?"and up at my little
sister. Her eyes, so gigantic and blue, never failed to shock me; as if just
the sheer fact that they were big meant they could take in so much more.
Despite the fact that she was four years younger than me, I always felt like
she knew so much more than I did--that somehow, she was too wise for me to fully
understand.
“It’s
yellowing newspaper,” she said, blinking with those enormous eyes; those
miniature tide pools. “Today, my teacher asked what the single saddest thing we
could think of is. And when she got to me, I had nothing. I told her that the
saddest thing is seeing a dead dog on the side of the road, but I don’t even
know why I said that. That’s not the saddest thing. It doesn’t even make the list.”
I looked at
my sister with the same bewilderment I always did. I sat silent, crossword
forgotten in my hand, and waited for her to go on; for her to catch me up. But
she didn’t. “Yellowing newspaper?” I prompted, frowning.
“Yes,” she
said, her voice dropping several decibels lower. “It’s living proof of time
passing. People say time isn’t concrete; that it doesn’t exist except inside of
our minds. But yellowing newspaper is proof that time does exist; that today’s
news will be faded in a month; that a good day will soon be just a blurry
vision in the backs of our minds. Flowers, people; they grow. You can see time
passing; changing them. But newspaper fades away, shrinks. And the thought that
the words of today will be yellowed paper in a month, it’s so sad.” She
stopped. She turned back to the TV and turned up the volume as if that was all
she had to say. I glanced back down at my crossword. A four letter word for
fleeting…
An interesting look at time.
Some of your quotation marks in the beginning though threw me off, I think you placed them incorrectly.
Not a bad micro story though.
I'm Kaitlin. I love to write almost anything, but "About Me" sections are the exception.
Okay, let's see.
The favorite authors would be George Orwell, John Green, and Ellen Hopkins. I also have .. more..