By Gwen Whiting
We spent the money from our summer jobs buying alternate futures that year. Some huckster built a time machine on the boardwalk. Ten dollars bought five minutes of one possible reality.
My boyfriend Luke said we should go together. It didn’t go well. No matter what we said or how often we visited the machine – in every future we broke apart.
I started viewing our future alone. Watching myself. I listened to others, not Luke. Needled him about things. Lied. The future didn’t need changing. I did.
We stopped going long before the machine broke. Some changes take time.
Gwen “writes out her daydreams of possible future, past, and present times.”