I woke up fifty years later in a fit of confusion and rage.
It was surreal to be in a house I felt so much love in, but it was a house I
didn’t recognize. How old was this couch? Was this here 50 years ago? Felt like
it.
My brother was still in shock, maybe it’s because I was
tired or maybe my back just hurt, but I couldn’t bring myself to believe he was
involved in sabotage for 50 years. He was an old man now, shorter than he was
so many years earlier. He had a scar on his face I didn’t recognize and his
attitude seemed just as juvenile as it always had. If I heard one more joke
about “Mr. Freeze” or “Having a cold” I’d throw myself of a cliff instead of a
time capsule the next chance I got.
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