Bits of Stardust

By Matthew Elkin

Tara, a med school dropout, has a new life in Huntsville, Alabama, a new boyfriend and a job as a secretary at a pediatrician’s office, but the memory of her ex-boyfriend still haunts her to this day. And then she finds his journal in the attic…

• Language: English
• Publisher: Matthew Elkin
• Release date: Oct 8, 2015
• ISBN: 9781519914712

Matthew Elkin

Matthew Elkin is a lifelong learner and lover of books and witing.

Book preview

Chapter 1

The echoes of last night’s discussion rang in the boy’s ears. From their conversation about the future to the phone call to city hall, it was blessing on his heart to know he could trust Tara. He finally had someone he could trust to never leave him. It would be etched in stone as soon as he cashed the check. Then they could go see their future as it would be.

As the boy glanced out her dorm window, the sun yawned, shedding off its dust in the morning onto the UAH campus below, easing the pains of separation from the previous night. The dance of the dust against her bed-head hair might have been the subject of a DaVinci original.

Her leg twitched, brushing up against his. His hand rose and fell with her stomach, the cotton fibers an ocean of purple on which his palm floated. She punched his bicep. She was a boxer in her sleep. He grinned at the sweet look on her face, her eyelids fluttered and her mouth hung open, exhaling. His hand sank into the ocean as her stomach dove.

His body rarely allowed him to sleep in late nowadays. He woke near dawn, but he could not bring himself to wake her. He had contented himself to lie beside her, she in his arms and him in hers.

The fabric of her pajamas ran across his leg again, grazing his leg hairs. He clenched his teeth, keeping himself from crying out with laughter and flailing his whole body. He did not want to wake her. He tensed his body until the tickling stopped. God, why did he have to be so ticklish?

When she rolled over, the boy eased himself out of bed and sat at his desk, far out of tickling range. Stacks of well-loved books piled high on its surface, but only a small leather-bound diary laying in front of him caught his eye. He wrote in it every day. He had to write, otherwise, she wouldn’t remember him when the time came.

Years of wonderments and memories filled this book, and yet he never tired of adding to it. He picked up a pen and turned to second to last page. Soon he would have to get a new diary. After finishing his thought on the page, he gazed back over