Five Minutes Ago

by Kamalani
originally published at 08:19AM on Friday, May 11, 2007

I am awake. Less importantly, I am alive.

One problem: I am not myself.

Like the persistent drip of a leaky faucet, my memory returns.

Drip.

My name is Jim. Friends call me Jimmy.

Drip.

I’m an ad man for a local TV station.

Drip.

The drops of identity give way to a rush of time’s waters: Adulthood. Childhood. Family. Friends.

Me.

I am 27 years old, on sweat-soaked sheets, staring into the darkness of the apartment.

Despite the data, despite this torrent of remember, I am sure of only one thing: I’ve never been more terrified in my life.

Five minutes ago, I wasn’t sleeping in this bed. Five minutes ago, I wasn’t 27.

Five minutes ago I was 74.

I stood at her side for 50 years: I remember. I lay at her side while others stood and the doctors pulled our plugs.

We had joked about starting over. Wished we could be young again. Together.

I am 27 again, but not the 27 I was: with the new house and the pitter-patter.

I am alone.

And I can’t stop crying.

Prequels

Sequels

Comments

  • from C. Davida:

    What an interesting concept! I appreciate how you set this piece up with the leaky faucet/returning memory. It is beautifully written. So much depth in so few words. Thank you for such an enjoyable read!

  • from uselessness:

    It’s a masterpiece. Excellent work!

  • from horrorfan13:

    I totally agree. This is wonderful work! Beautifully written.

  • from Lovely:

    Agreed as well. This was amazing. Kudos.

  • from Ben Paddon:

    Very well written. Borderline-genius, in fact. The genius side of the borderline, natch.