She was the most beautiful woman in the world. When she looked at me, all that I could do was stare, entranced. Every little worry fell to the wayside. Her eyes were like twin stars, glittering with cosmic, universal optimism and her smile streaked across the sky, a comet singing in the night. A nebula of sunlit blonde hair fell between her moon-shaped glasses and her wide, goofy ears, widened out to envelope the galaxy with color. She was the most perfect person in the world, and she looked at me like that. I could go on about her freckles, and how I’ve picked out constellations in their patterns, or the way she said patterns like pat-tahns, or I could spell out the words she would say absently and intermittently as if they were fuzzy images taken from a satellite hundreds of thousands of miles above a planet bursting with mystery. It could never be enough.

It was hard not to fall in love with someone like that.

She asked me how I could do the impossible, but I felt the black hole tugging at my wrist. The pain of that day, all those years ago resurfacing. I could not go back to that dark place again. I can not go back. I let the topic die, because I do not know how to explain it.

Her lips parted. She wanted to say something, but she caught herself. The question goes unsaid, hanging onto the wind as an unsung swan-song dances at the back of a throat. I still do not know what she wanted to say. I do not think I will ever know, but the memory subsisted. My final thoughts of her remained a mystery without an answer. But I will always remember her as my universe.

“Monty…” her lips part, the air pulled through a tiny whisper, the remnants of a lost thought. “I can’t stop it.” Her words fall on deaf ears. I am not listening. I am memorizing her face. Burning the contours of her bright cheeks into the folds of my brain. Locking away the sweet smell of vanilla that follows her wherever she goes.

I did not want to let her go.

“You have to let me go.”

I did not.

Then, I felt it. The world was collapsing. I noticed it first when the pain in my chest grew beyond that of heartbreak. It was like a fire consuming me from the inside. The heat traveled up my throat like a chimney, and I could feel the walls of my lungs chip away from the smoke. It was harder to breathe now.

I saw it. The world imploded in on itself, a rippling maelstrom of an ill begotten future racing towards the finish line. The storm felt personal. It was a cannibal eating itself, fostering self-destruction.

A bright light emerged from the destruction. It invaded reality like an unsanctioned thought. Someone else was reaching into my world.

I would not let them.

My hand reached out and an unnatural force found me. It pulled me in like a whirlpool of concentrated power. I continued to hold her, but my fingers slipped, and the universe took her.

And I was alone…again.

* * *

The chatter from two plastic-coated newscasters filled the living room of our apartment with a natural melody. The brownstone walls bounced their voices across from room to room. I could hear them clearly from the kitchen. My hands, too small to hold my dad’s mug, wrapped around a kid’s juice box. As I drank from it, I measured the crinkles of the box in harmony with the talking heads.

One of the casters had a voice that pitched up and down intervally, leading into an innocuous pattern that sounded more like a bird chirping than an actual adult talking about the weather. I was surprised it had not put my mother to sleep yet. The crackle of the screen brought them to life, giving texture to the drivel.

“⏤Thank you Jennifer. Now, onto the weather⏤”

The static tickled my ears in a unique way. I liked to sit all too close to the tv because of it. It has put me in a bad standing with my mom on more than one occasion.

“Ready for school?” My father walked in with his greasy hair pulled up into a tight knot. His hands, each larger than my face, squeezed my shoulders as he nuzzled his fuzzy beard against my head. When we pulled apart, he smiled at me and rubbed his hand in my hair to mess it up even more.

“Stop that!” I shouted. My smile was too wide to even pretend to be furious. It came in spite of my personal volition.

My mom, clearly amused with our conversation, called out from the living room, “Papa! Give the poor kid a break.” My dad always smiled when he heard her. It was like an automatic response. It was kind of like how my action figures would say something when you pressed the button on their back. It just came out naturally, without leaving any room for nuance.

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Of course, the two were a little different, but I was eleven. What else mattered more than my father and my action figures? Nothing, I can assure that.

“⏤Looks like it’s gonna be thunderclouds all afternoon, and rolling into the ev⏤”

As my dad pulls off of me, turning his back towards the stove to fix up some breakfast, my mom enters the kitchen. Bringing her index finger to her lips, she gives me a wink and shhhh~. She successfully sneaks up on dad and gives him a hug from behind. Somehow, he knew she was there. At her touch his stoicism crumbled. His giggles were so infectious that they soon spread to mom, and to me.

Goofballs, I thought.

“⏤careful driving tonight. Looks like it’s shaping up to be a heck of a storm⏤”

The static crackled like a fireplace. Mom looked back towards the living room. She separated from dad and went to pick up the landline.

“I don’t know if I’m comfortable with Monty going to school today. It’s gonna be like Hell to drive in that," mom said.

“Language,” dad said.

Mom feigned a pout and began dialing the number for school. She listened for the other side of the line before she maneuvered her way to the front office. Dad looked down at me and smiled, sliding over a plate of eggs and bacon arranged into a smile.

“What do you think kiddo? Movie marathon?”

My eyes lit up. It has been so long since we have done one.

“How about that one series with the time-traveling car? Something, something, to-the-future?” he said.

“I’ll get the snacks ready!” I said, scarfing up my breakfast and jumping down to start looking for the bags of popcorn and any sweets not nailed down. My dad only laughs, going to work on the frying pan he just used with a barrage of soapy swipes. I found what I was looking for and ran to the living room.

As I entered the hallway between my living room and kitchen I passed by my mom, who gently pats me on the head as she pulls out her ringing work phone after hanging up on her call to the school.

“Hold on kiddo, I’m just gonna take this. I’ll be right in.”

I nodded my head furiously, snacks pouring out of my arms like an overflowing cornucopia. A few snacks drop to my feet. I’ll just come back for them, I tell myself. The living room is empty except for the tv, blaring to life with images of winter snowscapes. The snowflakes were like popcorn, falling between the city’s cracks. I imagine what it would be like if it really was popcorn. How many people would not go hungry this winter? How many people would be saved? I set everything down on the coffee table, looking towards the tv to watch.

“⏤This is a blizzard for the history books, folks. Make sure to stay safe out there⏤”

Crackle

I started to feel it, the crackle of the tv.

Crackle

It courses through my fingertips. I feel like my hands are falling asleep.

Crackle…crackle…CRACK!

An explosion erupts, plunging the apartment in a maelstrom of lightning and pressure. It spreads out from the tv to the carpet to the table and the couch, and to me. The table splits down the center, cotton innards spew out between the cushions, and snacks explode in a volley of popcorn kernels and burnt sweets. I feel a pressure weighing me down, like a weighted blanket. It would have been funny, If it had not been for the stranger who appeared at the nexus of the explosion.

He was tall with dark, scraggy hair reaching just past his ears. His eyes were cobalt blue, and seemingly glowed in the light of the supernatural energy. Or were they actually glowing? He wore a blue and white body suit, with some sort of symbol on the front chest. He looked like…a superhero.

I was too stunned to speak. All I could do was stare. He looked at me and smiled, like he was looking at a friend⏤someone he has known for a very long time. But behind the smile, there is a pain, almost unimaginable to a kid like me. It was like looking at a broken action figure. I felt…sorry for him.

The shouts from my parents were muffled, like I had been plunged into the deep end of a pool, and I was too far from the surface to climb out. They placed themselves between me and the stranger. I think even then, I knew there was nothing we could do.

But as my parents stood up to the stranger, I could feel their eyes soften. They shouted and threatened to call the police, but my father quickly went quiet, and my mother followed. They looked like they knew him, their eyes glowed that same blue, like the blue of my eyes, an electric, cobalt blue. The last time I saw my parents was when I curled around to look back at them as they realized who was standing in the room.

“I am so⏤so sorry. Please forgive me.” His voice cracked, and the smile wavered, but it did not look cruel. His eyes were soft.

“Monty⏤”

All I remembered next were the sounds of popcorn popping and brick walls turning to rubble.