Sometimes the years would go by like the clichéd blink of an eye, barely time to take stock before another one rolled by. Often they were like a deep breath, flowing out, soothing and refreshing; each one bringing a new perspective. Each was something new; some innovation by mortals that had never occurred to those who had lived through everything.
“Phones you can carry with you at all time, huh? Seems a little pointless.”
“You thought that about cars. And planes. And probably the wheel.”
“How would you know?”
“You told me. Can’t keep secrets you lot.”
Crinkled eyes met crows-feet-free ones; still full of life and soul even as they scrunched up periodically with arthritic pain.
She smiled back but it was a little too bright.
“We can keep plenty of secrets. You’re one of the only people who know about us.”
“Yeah, and then you’ll tell someone else when I’m in the ground.”
The smile slid off.
“Don’t what? I’ll be gone one day and you’ll have to find someone else to bother with your incessant presence.”
“Please.” She hated this, the easy acceptance of death that came with old age, an idea she could never embrace yet was surrounded by.
“And if you don’t find yourself another mortal, I’m just going to come haunt your arse till you do.”
She gave an undignified snort, roused from her morbid musing.
“I’d like that, I think.”
“You wouldn’t because I’d be really annoying. Just moving your cups ‘round and keeping you awake all night.”
“Sounds perfect to me.”
A tinkle of laughter brought another smile to an ageless face.
Tales written from a prompt in just 10 minutes.
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