100 Themes Challenge: #41- Citric Acid

Her attention turned to her final box, this one filled perhaps with her most treasured items: her photographs.

Some were in black in white. Some were curling at the edges. Others were carefully encased in full colour and detail, safe behind their glass.

They made her conscious of her age, of how much time had passed. But as she continued going through them, carefully wrapping each in paper to protect them, she couldn’t help smiling at the thought of the adventures life still had in store for her; it had been such an interesting life already, who knew what else was waiting for her to discover?

As she reached the last photo though, her smile fell. It was perhaps the most weathered of the other photographs, browned with age, once in crisp black and white. Two young women were grinning and waving at the photographer, the endless ocean in the background, some gulls sweeping down in hopes of some treats.

_{“Michelle…”}

The brunette’s smile in the photo was so carefree, so wide and welcoming. For a minute, the nostalgia overtook her, transporting her decades back to warm sands and pleasant waters. She could almost smell the salt in the air, hear the wind rustling through the trees, the creaking of a hammock and feel the sun heating her neck.

Her eyes opened once more, moist and dark with thought.

It took her only a moment to make her decision, and soon a bright smile was back on her face, her energy renewed as she carefully packed away her treasures.

“It’s worth a try.”

The house was as she remembered it: white whicker furniture sitting on the front porch, screen door at an odd tilt that no one cared to fix. The postbox was still a faded blue, though there was no noticeable name on it now.

She almost turned away at the thought of how ridiculous and embarrassing this whole ordeal was about to become.

“But I’ve come too far to turn back now.” She straightened her posture, paying no mind to the protesting creaks her spine made in rebuttal. A confident smile came to her face, one that she had worn steadfastly throughout the past sixty years. “Onwards.”

She quite nearly had a heart attack as the door opened. “Oui? Puis-je vois aider?”

The eyes were the same. The voice was the same. But logic told her that this could not be the same person.

“Oui, s'il vous plaît. Je cherche pour Michelle Solange?”

Brown eyes narrowed in curiousity, and the girl switched to English, realizing the elder female was clearly not from the island, the accent a giveaway. “I’m sorry but she isn’t here.”

The elderly woman (though she far from considered herself that) let out a small groan of frustration, (e/c) eyes lighting up again almost immediately in hope. “Do you know when she’ll back?”

The brunette at the door was hesitant, her words weighted. “I wish I could say but she-.”

Understanding filled the old eyes at the non-explanation, a dark cloud forming in them that reflected her guilt and regret. “I see. Well…” She trailed off, then forced a smile, one the other female saw through instantly. “Thank you for your time.”

She began to walk down the steps, the girl quickly following the other. “Wait! What’s your name?”

The greyed female turned to the younger. “It’s (Y/n). (Y/n) McFadden. And a long time ago it was (F/n) (L/n).”

Brown irises flashed in recognition, mouth dropping into a perfect “oh” of surprise. (Y/n) didn’t see this as she had immediately started walked away from the house again, eyes facing the sea. The younger shook herself out of her shock for a moment, running down the steps and stopping in front of the aged human. “One second! You’re (Y/n)? The one that my grandmother spent so much time with?”

“Your grandmother?”

“Ouais! She used to tell me so many stories about you! I wouldn’t have believed most of them if she didn’t have this one picture of the two of you.”

She let out a tired smile, and it was at that moment the twenty-something noticed tears pricking the older woman’s eyes. She bit her lip, extending her arm.  “I know it’s not much, but I would be honoured if you’d join me for dinner tonight.”

She almost hesitated, thoughts dark with regret at the unsaid goodbye, of all the years that had fallen away with nothing to show for it. She could have tried to keep in contact. She could have tried to call just once- she could have- she could have- she-

Aggressively she swiped away her tears, taking a deep breath and putting on a strong smile. “Dinner? If it’s not too much of an imposition, my dear.”

The girl laughed, seemingly delighted and relieved, another emotion (Y/n) couldn’t identify in her eyes. “Of course it’s not! I’d be delighted!”

 Night had fallen relatively quickly, the sunset just as breathtaking as the ones (Y/n) remembered from so long ago. The old photos never could quite catch the beauty of the place, or the magic that the breeze seemed the carry with it.

Ambrosine had introduced herself properly after inviting the elderly lady into her home. She told (Y/n) of her grandmother and how good her life had been, both raising a toast to their dearly departed.

"It's a shame." (Y/n) paused, swishing her Bacca in its glass and taking a drink before continuing. "I thought for sure I'd find her here. Out of the two of us, I expected her to outlive me. Wasn't really sure what to expect when I got on the plane."

The younger woman smiled slightly, a sad smile that hinted at knowledge beyond her years. "She told me many times how tempted she was to come visit you, but then she always said you were probably too busy living."

The other scoffed lightly, taking another sip of her drink afterwards. "Kevin kept us busy. Between him, work and the kids..." She trailed off, recalling the protests most of her offspring had offered at the thought of her travelling alone.



"At your age, Ma?"

She had scoffed at the lot of them.

"I'm 73, not an eggshell. I was fine travelling alone when I was less than half your age; I'll be fine now."



The conversation faded, flickering in and out like the candles on the table, ebbing much like the waves against the nearby beach.

"Your grandmother and I..." The elderly lady trailed off, her words hanging as cobwebs on a dusty memory.

The girl gently placed her hand on (Y/n)'s, smiling. "She told me so many good things about you. I'm sure she would have been delighted knowing that you kept making more of those stories come to pass."

There was a bittersweet smile lingering on wrinkled lips. "My only regret is that I let them get in the way of coming back to see her sooner."

"Well on her behalf, I'm glad that you came back anyway."




The sunrise beaconed them with its full glory the next morning, the aging traveler parting after a small glass of lemon-aid and a hug from her hostess. The girl stood at the end of her driveway, watching as the cab carried her visitor back into the city, a sad smile crossing her lips.

It had been decades since she had last seen the human girl. It felt like the blink of an eye to Michelle, but mortality was always a strange subject.

Many times she had wondered about the girl with the (h/c) waves and brilliant (e/c) irises, but she never pursued her. Humans were constantly going about their lives, pulled into some sort of rut eventually no matter how stubborn they may be. Mortals were creatures of habit, and revert back to their ways eventually.

Some people go on with their lives, leaving a blazing mark on everyone they meet, never to be seen nor heard from again.

For years, Michelle had worried that (Y/n) was one of them. A rush of energy, smiles and charm that could brighten the entire room, (Y/n) had crashed into her life like a tsunami, leaving her both breathless and bewildered. She was gone just as suddenly, off to other parts of the world, no doubt leaving others in awe as she continued.

And both times, her departure left a bitter taste in the nation's mouth.


The smile turned more sour, brown eyes watering despite her best efforts.


Thank you for not forgetting me, (Y/n)...


_{"The girl who left stardust in her wake."}