A Crumbling FallThe photograph crumbled in his hand. Broke down to dust. And melted into the past.A Crumbling Fall8 hours ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes
On a day, ten years down the line, she would fly out of the window. Jump. Much too carelessly. Falling down through a thousand yesterdays. She would fall in through the contours of her own self. He had captured that moment of her fall. Ten years down the line. In his camera. Frozen. In its bittersweet solitude.
He had placed it too between the pages of a book he would write.
This morning, stumbling through the empty shelves in his room; the ones he had saved for his future, he came across that book he was yet to write. And folded down between its pages, he also found the photograph. He brought it out. Held it in his palm.
The photograph was ten years too young. The weariness of those ten years had exerted itself on the photograph. And therefore, once, he held it between his fingers, it crumbled. Broke down into dust.
And melted into the past that had timelined her in its heart.
She was time. And the eart