Squading Through Time and Space

Prologue - James

James hated the smell of oranges.

As he walked past the entrance of the small kitchen, he could see one split open, its juicy insides sitting against the peel. The sweet smell reached him from across the room and he spun his head away, blinking hard.

In his mind, all he could see were those pale fingers, puncturing the orange skin and ripping them open one by one. The scene was clear as a bell, for some reason. It seemed so irrelevant, compared to everything else that had happened that day.

That day. That was the day of the funeral.

James wore the only suit he owned that day. It was snug but it still fit well enough. He slicked his hair with gel and shaved his lip. He couldn't remember much about the day, except for small irrelevant details. But he did remembered the bags under his eyes that wouldn't go away.

He remembered seeing those same bags under his best friend's eyes. Rory was already at the church when had James arrived, standing with his parents and sister. Even his uncle had showed up. James gave him a wave, but Rory didn't notice.

James remembered Rory's eyes that day. They were lifeless. There wasn't a single speck left in them. James wondered if his looked the same.

There were a lot of people at the funeral. Black shapes bumped into each other, shuffled around. It looked like a heavy dark blanket had settled over everyone.

James and his parents walked to the front, to shake hands with the parents whose child had died. Their eyes looked as dead as Rory's, and James' hand trembled when he held theirs.

Somehow, he managed to back away and stumble onto a bench. His legs wouldn't support him anymore. Nausea was rising in his throat.

He looked down the aisle and his eyes found Emily. Her head was down and she barely moved. She looked like a wilting flower, melting into the seat. He watched her for a while, and imagined a limp marionette sitting in her place.

James, remembering where he was, looked up at the priest and noticed everyone had sat down. It was so quiet. He thought the silence would suffocate him. He could see the open coffin at the front and he realized he never looked inside.

James didn't remember what the priest said. He remembered cold sweat against his forehead and rapid breaths that shook his body. He spotted his other friend, who now occupied the space next to Emily. His blue sweater had been replaced with a dark suit that didn't suit him at all.

James' eyes became blurry and his nausea worsened. He wondered what would happen if he threw up right now, in the middle of the service. His hands tightened in his lap as he imagined the awful scene. He couldn't concentrate on the priest. He couldn't concentrate on anything except for the smell.

The smell?

James noticed it now. Sweet and tart and overpowering, it was the smell of oranges. James looked around him, and noticed a man sitting a few people down. The blurriness left his eyes and he saw the oranges. Three of them sat in his lap and James watched, fixated, as the man ripped off each skin and break apart the individual sacks. James followed the hands and found their owner in surprise: Rory's uncle. He had been watching James the whole time, and now the older man gave him a small, nearly imperceptible wink. James quickly averted his eyes, confused.

He didn't remember anything else about the funeral. The only thing he remembered was the smell of oranges. It had taken days before the scent left his nostrils.

Now, whenever James smelt the sickly stench, it brought back the memory of that funeral. Of his friend's death.

He wondered if Helena was happy where she was.