A Little While Longer

Brynn Sweeney '26

I woke up to my alarm clock, which sent a blaring noise through my skull: 6:45 a.m. on the dot. Though I could’ve sworn the clock read 12:13 a.m., it’s going to be a rough morning.

I sat up and swung my legs off the side of my bed, feeling the soft carpet graze my feet. My knees cracked as I stood; the ache caught up with me every step.

The cold tile of the bathroom sent shivers up my spine. I grabbed my toothbrush and toothpaste off the counter. Despite brushing my teeth every day for seventeen years, the bristles felt dry and crusted.

I could have sworn the hand that placed my toothbrush back on the counter wasn’t my own. It had veins popping out like roots pushing the sidewalk up, and skin so delicate I thought it might tear if I moved too quickly. I studied my hands. They were mine, they were normal. I was up late doing homework; I must not have gotten enough sleep.

I opened my closet door, but the clothes in there weren’t mine. At least they only felt like a faded memory. I tore through everything. The bins on top of the shelf. My dresser drawers, top to bottom. The boxes under my bed. Found ‘em. My favorite outfit was set on top. I didn’t remember putting it there, or how the clothes in the closet seemed to be mine, but I never remembered buying them.

My stomach growled, threatening to attack me if I didn’t do anything to tame it. I went downstairs to get my breakfast and greet my mom for the day.

“Morning, Mom.”

No reply. Weird, she didn’t usually leave before I did. She must have been called in early. I made a mental note to call her later as I walked into the mudroom. Hoping my day would take a positive turn sooner rather than later. Backpack? Check. Keys? Check. License? Check. If I was missing anything, then it wasn’t important enough. I opened the door to the garage, where my car was parked. My mom's car was nowhere in sight. She definitely left already.

As I walked up to the car, I saw someone in the reflection. It should’ve been me, but it wasn’t. It was an old woman with wrinkles and thin, grey hair, wearing an expression somewhere between fear and recognition. But as quickly as she had appeared, my reflection returned.

I stared a moment longer, waiting for something to change. I reached a hand up to my face.

Am I going crazy? I thought to myself. No… no. It’s just one of those days.

I got into my car. The image of the old woman flashed in my mind. I shook my head and closed my eyes. I opened my garage door, which slid a little too smoothly; it gave me another odd feeling. As I went to start the car, I noticed a woman standing at the edge of my driveway, walking towards me. I turned the car off, though I didn’t remember ever turning it on.

“Can I help you?” I said to the woman. She was dressed in scrubs and had a look on her face I couldn’t quite place. Sadness? Confusion? Worry? A combination, maybe.

“Ms. Gallagher, you should be inside.”

She seemed so familiar to me, but I could have sworn I had never met her.

“No,” I paused, “I’m on my way to school.”

“Oh, well, could I trouble you for a glass of water and some air conditioning for a minute? It’s awfully hot out here.”

I was skeptical for a moment, but I had no reason not to trust her, and she was right, it was very hot.

“Of course, follow me.”

She sat on the couch while I went to the kitchen.

“The weather has been something lately, hasn’t it?”

“I guess it has,” I said, still somewhat wary of the woman.

“Seems to be normal for this time of year.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be rude, but do I know you?” I handed her the water and sat beside her.

“You do, Ms. Gallagher. I’m here often. Do you remember?” She chose her words with such precision that it felt like she was performing surgery, and I was the patient she was careful not to damage. 

I gave her a half smile and shook my head. I would remember this woman if I were supposed to.

“You’ve lived a long life.” She took a pause, “Do you remember?”

A breath caught in my throat. Tears welled up in my eyes. 

It felt like I had been punched in the chest. A crash played as memories swirled in my mind. A vision of graduation caps soaring amongst the clouds. Wedding bells ringing. Babies crying and laughing. Another breath hitched as I remembered the cool touch of my mom's hand the last time I saw her.

She wasn’t at work; she was dead. I felt the room spin, remembering the coldness of her funeral. I remembered the way her gravestone taunted me, letting me know she was never coming back. My knees ached, sharper this time, as if decades of pain-free living came rushing back at once. I grazed the back of my hand on my face, feeling every line and wrinkle. My hands trembled, but was it old age or fear? I closed my eyes to let the tears fall. I saw my mom smiling weakly but warmly. When I opened them, the nurse looked at me.

“I’m sorry to rush you, but can I get you anything else before I head to school?” I smiled, waiting for her response.

The nurse took a deep breath. Her eyes were misty as she opened them, and she threw a soft smile on her face. 

“If you wouldn’t mind, I’d like to stay and enjoy the air conditioning for a little while longer,” she said, taking a ragged breath paired with a smile that looked like it would crack with the slightest change in the wind.