Our TG Captionpage 4
0 likes
login to like
Business had been slow, and Miles was starting to feel the weight of it. Most days blurred together: routine maintenance on balky machinery, fending off creditors, and staring at an empty appointment calendar. There was no glamour in keeping the lights on, and the silence of the workshop only made things worse. His one consolation was that every now and then, someone curious enough—or desperate enough—wandered in, giving him a chance to show off what his invention could really do.
Finally, there was something to break the monotony: his first scheduled clients. The payment had already cleared, more than enough to keep him afloat for another month, and Miles was determined not to squander the opportunity. Success meant proving that what he offered was worth every cent, and maybe—just maybe—earning a little word of mouth that would keep the doors open.
The couple arrived just after noon. Greg and Marianne looked every bit the suburban middle-class archetype: edging into middle age, carrying the faint wear of time in silvered strands of hair, softened jawlines, and a little extra weight around the middle. Neither was unattractive, but they wore the comfortable look of people who’d settled into long routines.
“Our neighbors couldn’t stop talking about what you do here,” Greg said as Miles ushered them toward the chamber. “So we figured… why not spoil ourselves a little?”
“Greg’s always looking out for me,” Marianne added with a light laugh, brushing his arm.
“Anything for my girl,” Greg replied, leaning in to kiss her cheek. “You want to go first?”
“Of course. Ladies first,” she said, stepping through the door with a grin.
Inside the control booth, Miles readied himself for the familiar rhythm of the consultation. Explanations, careful disclaimers, hints at the machine’s limits. But inevitably, the first question was always the same:
“So you can do… anything?” Greg asked, peering through the reinforced window.
“More or less,” Miles replied smoothly, already tapping at the computer as its ancient screen flickered to life. He had learned to recognize hesitation when he saw it, and Greg wore it plainly on his face. A little demonstration usually helped ease clients into the possibilities.
“How about something glamorous?” Miles suggested. “Ever wondered what Marianne would look like if she were a movie star?”
The change was immediate. Marianne’s posture straightened, her expression softening into a dazzling, camera-ready smile. Lines smoothed, not erased but refined, leaving her with a glow that was less suburban housewife and more polished celebrity. Her outfit shimmered into an elegant evening gown: sequined, form-fitting, its plunging neckline and daring slit designed for flashbulbs. Jewelry gleamed at her throat and wrists, and her hair fell in expertly styled curls that looked like they’d taken hours under a professional’s care.
Memories shifted. No quiet neighborhood, no husband waiting in the wings, no children. Instead she was Marianne Leclair—recognizable on sight, a bankable name that studios turned to when they needed a beautiful face for a glossy summer blockbuster. Critics scoffed at her lack of range, but the tabloids adored her. She wasn’t known for award-winning roles, only for stealing the spotlight with her looks and presence. And tonight, she was due to make her entrance on the red carpet, cameras flashing as fans screamed her name.
She adjusted a diamond bracelet with casual poise, smiling as though photographers were already fighting for the perfect shot.
Greg swallowed hard. The woman before him wasn’t the partner he’d driven here with. She wasn’t his at all. This was someone untouchable, larger-than-life, the sort of woman men boasted about admiring from afar. Fifteen years of shared memories had been wiped away, and he couldn’t decide whether he was looking at a fantasy come alive—or the sudden absence of the woman he loved.
Sensing his unease, Miles leaned back in his chair and offered a reassuring grin.
“Don’t be alarmed,” he said gently. “Feeling small is a normal reaction. You’re staring at an A-lister, Greg. Marianne’s not exactly a serious actress, but right now she’s the face plastered across every billboard in the country. She’s about to walk the red carpet of the summer’s biggest action flick. That kind of star power would make anyone second-guess themselves.”
Miles chuckled softly, and Greg lowered his eyes, one hand settling against the soft curve of his belly. Through the glass, the new Marianne flashed another red-carpet smile, utterly unaware of the husband she no longer had.
Finally, there was something to break the monotony: his first scheduled clients. The payment had already cleared, more than enough to keep him afloat for another month, and Miles was determined not to squander the opportunity. Success meant proving that what he offered was worth every cent, and maybe—just maybe—earning a little word of mouth that would keep the doors open.
The couple arrived just after noon. Greg and Marianne looked every bit the suburban middle-class archetype: edging into middle age, carrying the faint wear of time in silvered strands of hair, softened jawlines, and a little extra weight around the middle. Neither was unattractive, but they wore the comfortable look of people who’d settled into long routines.
“Our neighbors couldn’t stop talking about what you do here,” Greg said as Miles ushered them toward the chamber. “So we figured… why not spoil ourselves a little?”
“Greg’s always looking out for me,” Marianne added with a light laugh, brushing his arm.
“Anything for my girl,” Greg replied, leaning in to kiss her cheek. “You want to go first?”
“Of course. Ladies first,” she said, stepping through the door with a grin.
Inside the control booth, Miles readied himself for the familiar rhythm of the consultation. Explanations, careful disclaimers, hints at the machine’s limits. But inevitably, the first question was always the same:
“So you can do… anything?” Greg asked, peering through the reinforced window.
“More or less,” Miles replied smoothly, already tapping at the computer as its ancient screen flickered to life. He had learned to recognize hesitation when he saw it, and Greg wore it plainly on his face. A little demonstration usually helped ease clients into the possibilities.
“How about something glamorous?” Miles suggested. “Ever wondered what Marianne would look like if she were a movie star?”
The change was immediate. Marianne’s posture straightened, her expression softening into a dazzling, camera-ready smile. Lines smoothed, not erased but refined, leaving her with a glow that was less suburban housewife and more polished celebrity. Her outfit shimmered into an elegant evening gown: sequined, form-fitting, its plunging neckline and daring slit designed for flashbulbs. Jewelry gleamed at her throat and wrists, and her hair fell in expertly styled curls that looked like they’d taken hours under a professional’s care.
Memories shifted. No quiet neighborhood, no husband waiting in the wings, no children. Instead she was Marianne Leclair—recognizable on sight, a bankable name that studios turned to when they needed a beautiful face for a glossy summer blockbuster. Critics scoffed at her lack of range, but the tabloids adored her. She wasn’t known for award-winning roles, only for stealing the spotlight with her looks and presence. And tonight, she was due to make her entrance on the red carpet, cameras flashing as fans screamed her name.
She adjusted a diamond bracelet with casual poise, smiling as though photographers were already fighting for the perfect shot.
Greg swallowed hard. The woman before him wasn’t the partner he’d driven here with. She wasn’t his at all. This was someone untouchable, larger-than-life, the sort of woman men boasted about admiring from afar. Fifteen years of shared memories had been wiped away, and he couldn’t decide whether he was looking at a fantasy come alive—or the sudden absence of the woman he loved.
Sensing his unease, Miles leaned back in his chair and offered a reassuring grin.
“Don’t be alarmed,” he said gently. “Feeling small is a normal reaction. You’re staring at an A-lister, Greg. Marianne’s not exactly a serious actress, but right now she’s the face plastered across every billboard in the country. She’s about to walk the red carpet of the summer’s biggest action flick. That kind of star power would make anyone second-guess themselves.”
Miles chuckled softly, and Greg lowered his eyes, one hand settling against the soft curve of his belly. Through the glass, the new Marianne flashed another red-carpet smile, utterly unaware of the husband she no longer had.
What do you do?
Create your own Path!