Time After Time

Chapter 3: Photograph

Present Day

'... "Lacey, please... stop!" he shouted, voice ripping through the rain. She froze in the middle of the street, heartbeat loud enough to hear over the traffic, and he closed the final steps between them.

Lacey turned, rain blurring her vision, and saw him standing there—soaked, stubborn, not gone. She'd expected he'd have given up by now, but he hadn't. There he was by the studio door, breathing hard, eyes on her. In that moment, something in her broke and then softened: she knew he still loved her.

She froze as a horn ripped the air. Two blinding headlights cut through the rain like eyes staring at her. Panic hit—those lights belonged to a car, barreling out of control straight toward her. She couldn't move or see; the world narrowed to the hiss of screeching brakes and the skid of tires on wet pavement, shattering the heavy silence of the day...'

A thunderous boom yanked Lauren out of a nightmare. She shot upright, heart hammering, cheeks wet and cold sweat clinging to her skin. The sheets were twisted around her legs from whatever she'd been doing in her sleep. The room was nearly dark—just a slim line of light sneaking through the curtains.

Lauren trembled, breath coming in ragged gasps, and glanced down to see Macca asleep on the floor as usual. 'God, that felt so real, she thought, the nightmare's echoes clinging to her. She frowned, puzzled; she rarely remembered dreams, and even rarer for them to feel this vivid—especially ones with John Lennon in them. And why had he called her "Lacey"? The name lingered in her chest like a question she couldn't answer.

She sighed and squinted at the clock—6:42 a.m. Today mattered; despite the knot of anxiety in her stomach, she couldn't miss work. It was one small step toward her dream of going freelance with her photography. Heavy and tired, she eased out of bed, careful not to wake Macca curled up on the floor, and padded to the bathroom, rubbing sleep from her eyes as she began getting ready.

Half an hour later Lauren hurried to the mirror, gave herself a quick once-over, and snatched up her camera case. Macca, ever slow to wake, shuffled to the front door to deliver his ritual goodbyes, pressing his warm body against her calf and looking up with those big, pleading eyes.

"I know it's early, but I'll be home soon," she said, bending to ruffle his fur and scratch behind his ears. "Then we can go for a walk. How does that sound?"

Macca thumped his tail against her shin, gave a happy little bark, then darted to the door as if to speed her on her way, content she'd promised a walk.

Lauren laughed softly, swung her black camera case over her shoulder, and grabbed her keys from the hook by the door. She crouched to give Macca one last scratch behind the ears. "Be a good boy," she whispered, leaning down and pressing her forehead to his for a moment, careful to keep her voice low so the other tenants wouldn't wake. Then she stepped out, the building's hallway door closing quietly behind her.

She swung the front door open with a bright little skip, reached back to click the deadbolt, and eased the door shut behind her.

Despite the terrible dream, Lauren forced herself to see the morning in a different light. Choosing to let go of the last threads of memory tied to Jason felt right — like setting down a weight she'd been holding for too long. There was a quiet relief under the nerves, a small, hopeful space where she could start again.

Just before she left the building, Lauren spotted a man in a suit curled against the wall by the main door, asleep on the floor. She'd seen people like him here before—drunk or down on their luck, using the doorway for shelter. 'Not again,' she thought, and kept her steps steady, not letting the sight distract her.