You're Late

Dealing with it

Peggy Carter strode down the hall, stopping at her apartment. It has been a long day at work, and all she wanted to do was sleep.

Peggy unlocked the door and quietly opened it, stepping inside. She put her purse on the bed and rifled through it, pulling out a tube of bright red lipstick. She replaced it on her vanity, accidentally knocking over her things. Sighing in frustration, Peggy fixed each one, until she got to an upturned picture frame.

The brunette was almost afraid to turn it back over. Slowly, she reached out and picked it up.

The frame was alright, the stand a little bit. There was a small crack in the bottom right-hand corner of the glass covering the photo, but otherwise it was alright. Peggy slowly put it down again, tears filling her eyes.

The picture held so many memories for her, from the beginning, when he was new to the army, and to the end, when he went under. Peggy shook her head and turned away, still for a few moments.

***

When Steve walked in, Peggy was asleep. He tucked back a piece of her white hair and sat down, accidentally knocking into her dresser. I thud followed by the slight tinkle of glass made him freeze, stopping for a moment to make sure Peggy didn't wake up. When she didn't move, Steve bent over to pick up what fell over.

It was a picture. The frame was slightly banged up, and the stand was crooked. The paint was chipping from years of use, and a crack in the right-hand corner had grown. The photo beneath was many years outdated, it's color a faded sepia.

"Sir," The doctor said, pulling Steve from his thoughts. "I'm afraid visiting hours are over." Steve nodded kindly to the man and replaced the photo for standing and walking out.

The photo of Steve stayed next to Peggy always. No matter how bad her Alzheimer's got, she always remembered him.