Glittery Shades From the Past

I walked toward the girl, pushing people around the club to get to her. I could only see her back, odd yet familiar. I knew it was me, I was not stupid. Her long, brown curly hair still reminded me of better times, when I could actually afford expensive shampoo. Or shampoo at all. I couldn’t understand the way she was dressed. I didn’t need to. I just needed to give her the message and leave. Quickly, painlessly. Not in my time-traveling agenda, but what the hell. You gotta do what you gotta do.

I touched her shoulder and had to remove the glitter from my hands afterward. She recognized me immediately even though I was not covered in my 2009 signature glitter.

“You can’t be obsessed with ABBA…” I whispered to her.

“But ABBA is…”

I slapped her. I slapped myself.

“…my life,” she mumbled. You could tell she was broken.

“You can’t be obsessed with ABBA,” I whispered, now in rage and tears. “Just don’t. Listen to me, it’s gonna get harder, and you’ll think Agnetha, Anna-Frid, Benny, and Björn Kristian are the only people on earth who can quite understand you. They’re not. You hear me? They’re not.”

She was shocked. Tears came to her eyes. Tears came to her fully glittered eyes.

Suddenly I heard the note.

“No, no, no, no, no…” she said, not quite understanding what was about to happen.

I rushed to the door, but my knees felt weak. My sight became blurry. I tried to convince myself that I had saved my old self from those evil Swedish masterminds. But I crumbled as soon as the chorus started. I had come to save the world and I ended up surrendering to the disco.

—By Caro, Sweden