Transition
The moment he saw the bridge, he ran..,
The moment he saw the bridge, he ran. Subway. Four blocks. A townhouse that was more of a townshack, but they’d made do. He rang ten times, jingle bells rhythm, because that was how Elijah and he said I love you.
The door opened and he was already rambling. “It worked but it didn’t because there’s a bridge at 14th Street now, so I changed history somehow and I was so careful, I—”
“Are you on drugs, sonny?” the old stranger at the door asked. No Elijah.
He ran again. The deli Elijah worked at. He recognized no one.
He let out a scream. NYC didn’t care. This couldn’t be the time travel trade—he finally felt at home in his body and it cost him his home? He wouldn’t have made that trade. Or would he? Fuck, he didn’t know. He didn’t—
“You okay mate?” a familiar voice asked. Elijah stood there with a deli bag, with green hair instead of blue, with the same patient smile.
“Do you know me?”
“Don’t think so. But I’m happy to get to know you if you need an ear. Fancy a cuppa?” Still old-fashioned. Still weirdly British.
“I’d like that.”
In under 200 words, write your own story to this prompt: The moment he saw the bridge, he ran.
With love & ink,
Casper