I stare at the young man claiming to be Theodore Stark, my son. There are so many things wrong with his claim, the most important of all those reasons is that my son, Theodore Stark, is barely two years old. I’ve invited him into the house, and we sit in the living room, and I can’t help but stare. I know I shouldn’t. But honestly, how often does someone appear at your door claiming to be your own child from the future?
When he first showed up, my first instinct was to go and get Theo from his playroom upstairs. To check on him and make sure that he didn’t somehow get into one of Harper’s machines and age himself twenty or so years.
Sitting here, I still have the urge to go upstairs and check on Theo, to make sure he’s alright. This just gives me such an uneasy feeling. Especially since the young man sitting across from me is so familiar. His eyes especially. They’re… They’re Marcus’s. The almond shape, the dark brown shine. They’re just like Marcus’s. I should call Marcus at work. He should be here too. But I can’t bring myself to do anything but stare at the supposed Theodore Stark.
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2008-11-01 07:11 am (UTC)When he first showed up, my first instinct was to go and get Theo from his playroom upstairs. To check on him and make sure that he didn’t somehow get into one of Harper’s machines and age himself twenty or so years.
Sitting here, I still have the urge to go upstairs and check on Theo, to make sure he’s alright. This just gives me such an uneasy feeling.
Especially since the young man sitting across from me is so familiar. His eyes especially. They’re… They’re Marcus’s. The almond shape, the dark brown shine. They’re just like Marcus’s. I should call Marcus at work. He should be here too. But I can’t bring myself to do anything but stare at the supposed Theodore Stark.