Flowers of Mold & Other Stories

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Your watch stopped at 3:14. The second hand fell off when the glass cover shattered. Within minutes you were unconscious. During what seemed like a nap that went on a little longer than usual, the seasons changed in the front lawn, right below your hospital room window.

When you could walk on your own you pushed the IV stand out onto the lawn and sat in the sun. Sometimes you glanced at your watch as if waiting for someone. It was always 3:14. From the lawn you had a clear view down to the main entrance. The gate was always crowded with ambulances and visitors bearing gifts. But the girl who looked about nervously while picking her way through the bustle caught your eye. She walked not on the sidewalk but up the middle of the road, with a large backpack and a shoe bag. Ambulances with their patients and taxis with their passengers passed through her and sped away. Each time, the girl went fuzzy like an image on a television set with poor reception. From where you sat, you waited for that little girl. Leaping through a hole in time, a ten-year-old you came mirage-like to visit the you who was now twenty-seven.

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