April. Emily. Two free souls. I knew them when they were 16 and 17. They were at every art opening; every music show; every street protest. There wouldn’t have been a scene without them.
Sixteen years later, an underlying sense of dread pervaded my thoughts. Could I deal with the adult versions? I knew they represented a time in my life that I wanted to preserve as a perfect snapshot and not let current reality distort.
I knocked on the door. “Hello. I’m looking for April and Emily.”
“They ran away 16 years ago,” said April.
That was a relief.
Another 100 word story lies just beneath this daisy….