Five Minutes

“You’re so pretty. You take after me,” she used to say as she stroked my hair. My grandma was a huge part in raising me. I remember her laughter and the teasing gleam in her eyes. I now stare at those same eyes as she asks, “Who are you?” through the screen. Every five minutes the conversation resets. My aunt would try to help her remember; would show her old photos like puzzle pieces that couldn’t quite fit. I guess over time, my grandma forgot too. I wonder if I will still remember this moment when my hair turns grey.

Naya Torrecampo is a high school student who enjoys playing piano covers in her spare time. When she's not reading stories, she's writing her own.