Skip to main content

Push Rewind

Melony Gallant is a South African Short story Romance writer that sometimes dabbles in flash fiction and mostly drinks coffee


Jack stared at the empty whisky glass in his hand, swirling the last drops of the orange red liquid on the bottom before tipping it over into his mouth. An old guy next to him noticed and waved at the barman to come close.
“A beer,” he gestured to the man next to him, “And another whisky for the bloke.”
“Nice night for picking up a little blonde, ey!” the man said to the guy while eyeing the passing by blonde.
Jack mumbled something and rested on his hand.
“Look either you’re a bad drinker, or you’re a heartbroken sorry sod. Now which one is it?” the old man asked.
The guy seemed to notice the old man for the first time.
“I should never have said yes to Deidra.”
“Your wife, I take?”
“Hell no!” the guy took his whisky and gulped it down.
He turned to the old man.
“I slept with her ten years ago on this day.”
“Oh, then why are you complaining,” the old man laughed.
“Because my girlfriend caught us.”
“Ooh, that’s a biter.”
“It was over that same day.”
“But hey it’s been ten year, man, time to move on!”
The guy looked out at the people in the bar. There were beautiful girls left right and centre. But none of them were her.
“I wish I could go back. Push rewind.”
They sat in silence for a while.
“Maybe you can.” He heard the old man say.
He turned to look at the man but he was already gone. Searching for him around the bar, he found nothing but a few seductive stares from a group of girls.

He clicked his tongue as he heard the doorbell downstairs. He was late for work as it was already. He threw the towel he used to dry his hair down on the basin and took the stairs two at a time. He opened the door, expecting one of his nosy elderly neighbours but finding no one in sight. He looked out the door to his left and his right but if it was a prank there was no one running away. He was about to close the door when he noticed a small brown envelope on the cold stone porch. He picked it up. Written on the envelope was: PUSH REWIND. As he took out the CD from the envelope, he thought back about the night before and the old man. It couldn’t be, but it didn’t hurt to have a look.
He inserted the CD into the CD-player and anxiously watched the screen load. A black screen with a menu appeared. He decided to play what seemed to be a movie. Jack nearly jumped when the image of him appeared on screen hurrying down the stairs with wet hair. He knew this played out just a minute ago but it didn’t make sense. He watched as he opened the door and looked left and right for someone, just like he did a while ago. He stopped the CD instantly and jumped around inspecting every corner of the living room for hidden cameras. He found none. But this couldn’t be. Maybe he wasn’t the only one who received one of these, he thought. No, his neighbours would think him insane if he asked them. He looked at the screen and noticed the “SCENE SELECTION” option in the main menu. Every ounce of his brain urged him not to do it, but every ounce of his heart screamed yes. He clicked the option and little boxes with pictures resembling events in his life appeared. He searched by year for the day he wanted to go to more than anything but found one only a day off. He felt stupid for thinking it could work, maybe the old man was playing a trick on him. But how could this possibly be a trick? He gripped the remote tighter in his hands looking from the screen to the button. But as he looked at the girl he used to adore so much, he knew what he had to do.

He opened his eyes and saw his hand pushing an imaginary button on an imaginary remote. Confused he heard laughter.
“What are you doing, silly?”
His heart did cartwheels inside of his chest when he heard that voice. That voice he could identify in a crowd of millions at the Superbowl if needed. He slowly turned his head afraid of what he’d see. But before he could, arms attacked him and blocked his view. He smelled her and even after ten years it still made him feel the same.

© 2017 Melony Gallant

Related Articles