Latter Day Narrative

n Face of these Latter Days

James returned home from school as he did on any other day. He finished class and walked home in solitude, snare-like pulses echoed between the brownstone flats that lined the streets as his feet rhythmically struck the ice laden footpath. Arriving home, he broke a trail through the crisp hardened snow that languidly blanketed the grass of his front yard to stop on his front porch. James’ gaze momentarily shifted from his feet to the horizon. It was a particularly clear day today, free from the February smog that normally blanketed the city; it was so clear that in the distance he could see the Wasatch Front, he could even see the bell towers of the temple.

James nudged open the front door to reveal a cold unpopulated living

The pair swam back to shore and planned their return home. As James collected his shirt and shoes from the sand, Ethan produced a powder blue polaroid camera from his backpack and insisted upon taking a photo. Ethan wrapped his arm around James’ should and outstretched his left hand to take the photo. The camera clicked twice, with the abrupt, rousing tone of an alarm clock, before slowly producing two copies. Fearing perception, the pair embraced and kissed once more on the beach before boarding the bus home. On the bus, they sat across the aisle from one another, feigning detachment; it almost felt as if nothing had happened.

James looked out his bedroom window. It was still snowing, perhaps even harder than before. The bronze light shimmered across the polaroid’s glossy coating, like sunlight dancing on the ivory tusks of elephants, as he moved it with his hand. He dejectedly swung his legs over the side of his bed and got up to place the polaroid back under the mattress. But something stopped him. He sat back down on the bed. As water accumulated in his eyes, he kissed the polaroid and felt Ethan’s warmth through the cold glossy paper. Tears ran down his cheeks; they felt