The Remnant - Part 1

Jack Givens @ Unsplash

This is part 1 of a short story about love, time travel, and sacrifice.

It had been a brutal shift in the ER. The type that Anne never talked about. The type she did her best not to think about. 

The sun was just starting to come up and warm the air as she made it home to her tidy little bungalow fresh with the smell of new growth in the flower beds. She twisted her key, felt the lock click and stepped into the entry. 

She dropped her keys in the basket at the front door - kicked the door closed and wandered further into the house. The kitchen was straight ahead where dishes were being resolutely ignored until she had slept and to the left was her dining room with the soft calm greens and whites she’d picked out of a magazine. 

But now all she needed was the shower that would wash away all the germs she’d have picked up and perhaps some bad thoughts too. 

The young man was sitting at her kitchen table, one forearm resting on the table-top, with short sandy hair, and a grey button-up shirt. 

Anne pulled her phone from her pocket, but the man was out of his chair and the phone was out of her hand before she could even press the 9. 

“Don’t–” He lifted his hands and stepped away from her. “I’m not going to hurt you Anne – I just wanted to check that you were ok.” 

Great, not a burglar - a stalker. 

“I’ll be ok when you’re gone,” Anne said. 

Then she realized that she was between him and the exit. 

Not that he made any move for the door. 

He was staring at her. Grey-green eyes checked her over – like he was checking for signs of injury, only more intense, like he was memorizing her. 

Anne took a step back. He didn’t move, though his eyes danced to the door for a second before coming back.

Read Part 2 Here.