One man. A thousand different futures.
Most women only imagine the man of their dreams. Livy has visions of hers every time their paths cross, and has since the day she turned twenty-one. Every vision is a decision tree showing a thousand different realities, and every one ends in his leaving her.
So Livy hides herself away, avoiding fate's hand until he's thrown into her life in a way she least expected, and she must decide whether to accept her destiny, or turn away from it once and for all.
© 2017 C.D. Watson. All Rights Reserved.
Published by Bone Diggers Press.
A sharp slap of pain hit Livy before the first image popped into her mind. She squeezed her eyes shut and gripped the morning train’s stanchion tighter, readying herself for it.
A moment later, there he was in her mind, like a snapshot brought out too often and admired too well. His features were indistinct. Short, dark hair framing a rectangular face. A fleeting smile and laughter she couldn’t hear.
But the feel of him, that was crystal clear. The first spark of interest, the slow slide into love, the inevitable disappointment and rejection. No matter which path lay before her, if it included him, it always ended in his leaving.
Livy braced herself against the twist in her heart, steadied herself with the small comfort that the visions would be over soon, over and done, and after, she could get on with her day, as she always did.
And then another image of him appeared in her mind, and another, and another, each representing a different possibility, a different outcome, and the twist morphed into the agony of repeated loss.
Why did he always leave? Why wasn’t her love enough for him?
She sucked in a breath and leaned her forehead against the cold, metal pole, and braced herself against the train’s momentum. He was close, again. And she, like an idiot, had no recourse against his coming. Every time an intersection approached, she swore she’d figure out a way to end it permanently, and every time, it took her by surprise.
The train braked gradually, and Livy swayed against the stanchion. As soon as the train stopped, she gathered her courage and opened her eyes, and there he was, standing on the platform, waiting to enter the car she now rode. Not a memory now or a possibility, but a live, flesh and blood man, breathing the same air inflating her own lungs.
She forced her fingers open and eased into the stream of disembarking commuters, and passed him by as if this very scene hadn’t just unfurled in her mind.
“Excuse me,” he said as he squeezed past her, and she clutched her purse against her side and scurried away, her jaws clenched against the conversations they’d held in other possible branches of her life.