Shifting Mosaic

The rain thickened as dusk deepened, turning the city into a shifting mosaic of reflections—wet asphalt glimmering like a dark mirror, puddles trembling with each passing car. Edna’s gaze locked onto the red taillights sliding by below her window, each pair smearing into long streaks across the glass. They pulsed softly, like distant heartbeats.

The glow tugged at something deep inside her.

Red.
The color of brake lights.
The color of her mother's scarf whipping in the wind as they drove with the windows down.
The color of the suitcase her father packed for weekend trips.

But none of the images aligned neatly. They leaned into one another, merging into a hazy patchwork that made no sense and yet felt familiar. One moment she was a little girl with hair in ribbons, pressed against the backseat window, watching cornfields blur by. The next she was a teenager, tapping her foot impatiently as her parents argued softly in the front seat about which turn to take.

Then they were all there at once—a braided loop of time she couldn’t straighten.

She blinked, trying to bring clarity to the haze, but everything slipped like water through her fingers.

A pair of taillights glowed redder than the rest, cutting through the mist. For a second, she felt the jolt of the car hitting a pothole, her father’s voice apologizing over his shoulder, her mother laughing, her younger self clutching a stuffed rabbit. She felt the warmth of the car heater on her shins. She heard the faint hum of her parents’ favorite radio station.

Then—gone.

The memory dissolved into static.

The real world settled back around her with its soft hums and distant footsteps. She didn’t move. Her face remained blank, but inside, a soft ache rippled through her, gentle but persistent.

Another set of taillights drifted past—slow, steady, blooming red against the slick pavement. Edna followed them with her eyes, but not with her mind. Her thoughts floated somewhere unreachable, like balloons caught in branches high above her.

She couldn’t piece together the moments. Couldn’t decide whether she’d been eight, sixteen, or somewhere in between. The years folded over each other until nothing had edges anymore.

She exhaled, a small, weary breath.

Outside, the cars kept passing.
Inside, the memories kept blurring.

And Edna sat there, dazed but calm, her mind drifting in the soft glow of red lights and rain, lost somewhere between then and now, between who she had been and who she was fading into.