"Do You Think Time is Relative?"

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: July 31, 2017

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Submitted: July 31, 2017

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“Do you think time is relative?”

She removes the thin roll of paper from her lips and taps it gently against the glass tray between us. Blackened ash falls into the dish, leaving a ring of orange around the tip. She exhales slowly, pushing the smoke out of her lungs so it forms a cone, widening as it gets farther and farther from her mouth. For a moment, she almost resembles a dragon, breathing fire on everything in sight.

“Relative to what?”

Her eyes pour into mine, searching for something. I stare back at her for a second. Her hair is flowing down her shoulders, shimmering in the sunlight. Her eyes remain fixed on me.

“Relative to… The object’s…” Her eyebrows scrunch together and she looks off into the distance as she struggles to voice her thoughts. “Like, you know how time moves slower for things travelling close to the speed of light?”

I don’t answer.

“Well, do you think that idea applies to... normal-speed things? Like is a minute for someone else shorter than a minute for us? Or, like, does time pass more quickly depending on what’s going on?”

A wind picks up, clearing the smoke from the air around us and the heavy scent that accompanies it fades. She’s still staring at me, I realize. And I am still staring at her. My bones feel a little lighter than usual, and I am having trouble focusing. Her face fades into the background, and all of a sudden she is so, so far away. I feel like I’m driving on the highway, going ninety miles an hour, and she is the only thing in sight, a car far, far down the road. I want to drive faster, catch up to her, but I am moving too fast and too slow at the same time.

I blink once, twice, a third time. I see her face two feet away again, and before I can capture the moment, she starts to drift away once more. I shake my head. I close my eyes tightly and open them again. I press my hands, cold hands, onto the bridge of my nose, and then my temples. All temporary solutions. She is so far away and I can’t keep up.

A new hand, unfamiliar, touches my wrist. I follow the skin and see her, still staring at me. I exhale slowly. She is not floating away, she is here. Her hand is touching mine and I can feel her presence in my bones. My legs are pressing down on the chair, proof that I am here too.

 


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