VINCENT

I found myself looking down at my hands, but could these really be my hands? They were so much smaller, softer than I ever remembered them being. These were less the calloused hands of a life long-lived than they had been just a moment before. These were the hands of an adolescent whose path in life hadn't even been decided yet, much less traveled.

‘This can't be happening surely it must just be a nightmare.’

My thoughts were interrupted by a sudden brightness. The first light of morning slipped through the gaps in the curtains, just like fingers of gold reaching into the room. With each passing moment, the room grew lighter, the shadows fading as the sun climbed higher in the sky. Through the eyes of a child, the early morning dawn through the window felt like an invitation from the world, promising new adventures just beyond the sleepy haze of the night. 

I felt rage boil up inside me as my grief and sorrow seemed to be slowly drowned out. As if it could be ignored by the child-like whimsy and joy from my childhood self. As if what I just went through could be whipped away like nothing more than a bad dream.

I found myself lost in an unfamiliar combination of wonder and disorientation. The familiarity of my childhood home filled me with a blend of nostalgia and an eerie sense of wrongness. It was exactly as I remembered, yet so foreign and alien. I could feel the youthful excitement inside my body clashing against the pain in my heart and the confusion in my mind.

My bedroom door gently creaked open slowly releasing the nostalgic smell of fresh pancakes and eggs. However, the greatest surprise was that my once-departed mother stood in the doorframe. She looked as youthful and alive as she did when I was still young. Her hair was as dark and vibrant as it was in my long-forgotten memories. She gave me a smile that radiated warmth and safety that I never thought I would ever see again. 

“Vincent! You’re up early this morning. How very responsible of you, dear.”

Her voice brought a lump to his throat and shame to my heart. It was as if no time had passed, but I was acutely aware of the years that lay between us. I hesitated, then slowly stepped inside the kitchen. The whole house smelled of fresh breakfast and ancient childhood nostalgia. My mother’s presence was comforting, but also a reminder of all the things I’d lost or left behind.

‘ Surely, if I could have my mother back then maybe this whole thing couldn't be all bad ‘

“Don't forget dear today is the first day of school. you wouldn't want to be late for that so when you are done with breakfast. I am trusting you to make your way directly to the school bus pick-up spot.”

I quickly shoveled the delicious pancakes into my stomach still partially in a daze. I eventually just had to decide it was probably best to play along with whatever was happening. At least until I better understood what was happening it was best to just act like any other kid would.

I put on the already-packed backpack I didn't even remember having as I rushed out the door. Without a proper outlet to express the conflicting feelings bottling up inside of me, all I could do was keep myself busy and distracted.

As long as I didn't think about that dumb game screen or what was taken from me I could still at least play this all off as some sort of strange dream.

I stepped out the front door of my home and shut the door behind me when I heard the surprising ding of a notification.

To my utter rage and surprise the game screen appeared in front of me yet again. However, it seemed different somehow this time. 

“Darn, this isn't just a dream is it?” even to me the question seemed pointless.

<we should talk>