I’ve spent too much of the day distracted, so I didn’t write much. However, I did this time take a cue from our wonderful Story-a-Day hostess (director and maven). I thought about a character in a novel-in-progress. This is supposed to be a turning point, and it will be. I’m just out of energy. I’ll revisit it later.
This means, of course, this isn’t part of my Compendium of Lesser Known Time Travels and Other Terrors. It’s a scene for Astrophilia.
Thanks for reading!
In a parallel universe Hopeful Jones is still alive. That’s what Miracle June told herself at the funeral. She didn’t have a black dress. Her mother didn’t allow them in the apartment. So she wore the night blue dress she’d worn when her father died. It was flattering and trim, not lumping up and twisting under the straps of her breathing mask.
The air quality registered in the red on the day of the funeral, which would be sure to keep many of their classmates away. But Miracle June wanted to go no matter what.
It made no sense, her sister said. “Were you even friends with her?”
“Does that matter?” Miracle June asked. At sixteen, she was almost two years younger than her sister, Rarity Vaine but they were the same height. Though she could look her sister in the eye, she rarely did. Something about Rarity’s determined gaze unsettled her.
Rarity didn’t answer. She shook her head and strode from the room.
Miracle June went back to fussing with her appearance. Hopeful Jones hadn’t been exactly friends, but they had an understanding. And this funeral was going to be different. She’d been only to one funeral before. Her father’s. That had gone all wrong. The thought of it burned bright in her cheeks. She was going to go to the funeral for her classmate and do better.
How hard could that be?