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20

~Rosie 

Time holds my hand tightly, leading me down the street.

It’s almost comical, how we both look. Time has dressed up head to toe in clothing from this era that appears to be popular in this particular area. Both of us wear sheer white outfits that are fashioned similar to robes, hoods pulled over our heads. No one even casts us a second glance, which is a relief. 

“I’m still on the fence about showing you this,” Time mutters, pulling me down an alleyway. Glancing up, I see snow white painted balconies with drying clothes hanging off. Soft, up beat music drifts from the homes on the other sides of these washed ou

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