Written: Sometime in 2017
"Where am I?" I ask the person in front of me. "Who are you?"
"You don't remember?" He asks, tears in his eyes. I shake my head. "I'm Marcus Johnson. I'm your best friend. We got an annual invitation to a soccer game by the Harbor. The game was about to start when a satellite fell on you."
I'm sorry. I don't remember." The tears fill his shaggy brown hair at this point and his hazelnut-brown eyes are swimming in a pool of body fluid.
Suddenly Marcus gives me a cinnamon fortune cookie. I didn't know they had that. "I made this for you. I thought you might like it. I hope it can make you remember."
I take the cookie and crunch it open. I pull out the paper and it says, "You are going down the right path. Take a right turn and you'll end up where you want to."
"These aren't even fortunes," I say. I giggle slightly at a fortune I remember Marcus getting last year. "They should call these advice cookies."
A voice comes on the speaker. It says, "The antiquarian who left their camera here, please come pick it up." I laugh and hug the boy who smells like cedar and leave to go pick up my camera.
"Sasha, you remember!" He exclaims.
"Yep," I reply, and we go to get my camera together.
YOU ARE READING
Rina Raymond Short Stories
RandomThis is a collection of short stories I've written using a notebook full of prompts I found at a random items store. The order of written is from oldest to newest. Note: The chapter names are the prompts I used.
