The clock has already struck one – #fridayfiction
The clock has already struck one when Michael kisses Annie goodnight and disappears down the hall. Once he is gone, she pulls her suitcase from beneath the bed and starts to pack. Tomorrow she will leave from the office rather than return home.
Already the excitement of revisiting Memory House is running through her brain. She thinks of the bicycle. She remembers how it felt when she touched the handlebar; the boy was there, reaching out to her. The image came and went in less than a heartbeat, but it was solid as the bicycle itself.
Twice Annie has visited an antique shop on the south side of town. She has wandered through the dusty aisles, picked up a doll, a weathered hat and brass plated desk set, but none of these items offered up memories. They sat lifeless in her hands, revealing nothing of their past history.
She has now come to the conclusion that the secret to such insight is only at Memory House. If she is to gather memories from other times and places, Ophelia must show her the way.
As Annie closes her eyes, her last thoughts are surprisingly not of Michael but of the lovers she saw lying on the platform bed in Ophelia’s loft.