Marie could not take that step. She looked up and down the paved street and could not take that first step. That would take her across the street, to her future life. She was uncertain of what was in store for her, and Marie was not sure if she wanted to find out. The barred window looked like a big black wound, poorly stitched. What was there in the blackness of that hole?
In the corner of her eye she sensed something: movement. Was it the person disappearing behind that corner? No. The person was already fading away in the distance. It was something else. Marie stared intently in front of her. The arched wooden door seemed like it was growing old: the paint was scorching and fading right in front of her gaze. Stains of time were turning up all over the front of the building. Was she hallucinating? She was seeing paint and plaster washing out on the wall. What was going on? Marie felt dizzy. A thought benumbed her: she was time-travelling… Was she going forward, or backward? She raised her right hand and stared at it: was that her hand?
In the corner of her eye she sensed something: movement. Was it the person disappearing behind that corner? No. The person was already fading away in the distance. It was something else. Marie stared intently in front of her. The arched wooden door seemed like it was growing old: the paint was scorching and fading right in front of her gaze. Stains of time were turning up all over the front of the building. Was she hallucinating? She was seeing paint and plaster washing out on the wall. What was going on? Marie felt dizzy. A thought benumbed her: she was time-travelling… Was she going forward, or backward? She raised her right hand and stared at it: was that her hand?