A Hazy Shade of Winter
by Adam B Levine
That winter, she was getting old.
She had already passed the age that she thought of as "young." Once she was past thirty, she no longer had that feeling of being a child in a grown-up body. (She had felt like an adult, but still had the vague feeling like she was faking it. She wondered if that feeling would ever go away.)
But it was that winter when she started to get old. Well, autumn really. It happened in October, the leaves brown and crunchy beneath her boots, the sound they made like the breaking of brittle bones. She woke up one morning and realized that she was old now. There was no fighting against it, no struggle in her mind, just a sudden realization and that was that. She was old now. No going back.
Of course, that thought immediately slipped her mind when she turned on the news and saw the main story for the day: time travel had been discovered. There was some scientist explaining the basic principles about it on the morning show, but she couldn't understand half the words he was saying. And then there was another scientist--this one was dressed slightly better, his hair styled with mousse--who managed to translate what the first scientist had said into more easily understandable language.
She still didn't understand it. But she didn't need to understand. This wasn't something she would use, she knew. This was for today's era, not for her. After all, wasn't that what old people did? They didn't use new technology and if they did, they most often misused it.
Time travel was for the young, she knew. Let the young have time.