It’s 1 am and you know you shouldn’t be down here. You flick on the lights and wait as the glass cases slowly blink to life. You shiver in the climate-controlled air as you approach the first cube. The contents are hard to make out, just a jumble of warm-colored images of people and places. You smile as you bend down to peer through the thick glass. The next is a little clearer. A shockingly bright image of your mother placing a squirming pink bundle into your tiny hands on the day you stopped being the youngest child. You run your finger along the top of the cases, winding your way through darker and more fragmented images and objects. This one plays a two second loop of your teacher yelling your name in front of the class. That one shows a crackling hologram of the email saying your application has been rejected. Pushed to the side, you see birthday parties and proms and late night homework sessions all flickering in muted colors.
Then you see it. You remember now why you keep coming back here after midnight when you should be sleeping. It’s beautiful. In the miniature scene, every tree dazzles in the perfectly crisp January sun. A light snow continuously falls from an impossibly blue sky. There you are, bundled and glowing. And there he is, looking nervous and ecstatic. This is the moment– one of those rare, uncomplicated moments of perfect certainty. In this strange, square snow globe the two of you eternally stand, hands in pockets, with snow falling between and around you, not sure what to do, just smiling.
That smile. That smile that promised everything and nothing and made your heart feel like it shouldn’t fit inside your narrow rib cage. A smile that had redefined all of your plans.
You catch yourself holding your breath as you look at the scene now. Then you notice, out of the corner of your eye, something that isn’t quite right. It almost looks like the edges of the scene have started to fade. You kneel next to the case and put your nose to the glass. A fine dust coats the perimeter of the case. With a start, you realize that the scene is disintegrating from the outside towards the center. You check the air pressure and temperature controls. Every level is perfect.
Without thinking, you turn off the vacuum seal. You need to look more closely. You need to fix this before it’s too late. The glass cover is wedged into the base and you pry it off. As you lift it, the corner brushes one of the delicate trees and it crumbles into a fine powder. You watch in horror as the tree next to it begins to shiver and drop infinitesimal pine needles. He’s still there in the middle. His coat pushed up to his ears as he smiles. You slam the glass back in place before he can dissolve too. You turn the pressure system back on and step back. The snow still falls. The tiny figures are still frozen in happiness and confidence.
You keep walking towards the door, back to your bed where you should have been sleeping already. Without looking back, you turn off the lights and run back up the stairs.