You turn the pages of a faded yellow scrapbook.
It has seen use and re-use, evidenced by the wine-stains and a coffee ring in and amongst the pages. There are a few real photos, bright and clear, alongside crumpled pictures from a cheap colour printer. On a college campus. A pretty pink sunset at a blurry beach. On the roof-top of a public library, beers in hand. Paris. A Walmart car-park somewhere in the mid-west. New York. Dates and times are neatly recorded on the first few pages, but details fade as the faded photos recede. A nearly-used campus coffee loyalty card. A wedding order-of-service, and some real photos from the same event. Plane tickets. A faded ticket stub from Star Wars. A newspaper article printed from the internet, and then.
A clipping from a real newspaper.
Obituary Notice:
SMITH, Eden.
15th May, 1979 - 14th February, 2020.
Eden died at age 40 in his San Francisco apartment,
taken from us unexpectedly and too soon.
A celebration of his life will be held at
St James Presbyterian Church,
on Saturday the 20th February, at 11am.
By request, no flowers, but please consider
a donation to Greenpeace or Amnesty International.
Scribbled in the margin of the newspaper clipping: P.S., the real wake will be at the usual. BYO. All the old rules apply–you know what he would have wanted. - T.
You recognise the handwriting, just like you remember the man. You remember the car trip, and the wedding, and how you first met. So many memories.
A gentle story about relationships between real people. About first meetings, saying goodbye, and the moments in-between.
Hosted and narrated by:
Haoran (haoran)
Started 05/29/22.
Scenes played: 10
License: Community License
18+
