Killing Time

Based on the prompt "Write a story that ends in the past".

As soon as I press the little round button on my watch, the portal opens and sucks me in. In the next second or so, the world starts materializing around me. Colorful cars parked outside the small suburban houses, deserted streets, and some trees growing on the sides.

"Wow," I think to myself, "they really had trees growing right there, as if it was no big deal. Why did they have to screw it up for us?" The year 2140 is pretty great, with some nice inventions like the time machine I just used to get here, but trees and most plants are only found in the national preserves. History books narrate the story of the catastrophic climate change that leads to our blemished conditions, how the fires ran wild in the rainforests and huge ice blocks melting had a great impact on the destruction of a sustainable climate. They managed to create industrial air purifiers that do the job, but they take up twice the space a natural forest would.

I let the air flood my lungs, every single atom aching for the pure sniff of oxygen. A mix of mist and petrichor surrounds me as I start walking down the street and towards the train station.

All of a sudden I hear someone cursing. I turn around to find a girl about my age— that is, if I was from this time— struggling to drag a yellow suitcase along the sidewalk. My feet walk in her direction, even though I did not tell them to do so, and I realize that they're taking me next to the girl. She is wearing a blouse that looks as if it was made of a piece of sunrise, light brownish pants, and beige sandals.

"Do you need help with that?"

She lifts up her head at the sound of my voice and examines my factions, just as I do with hers; the bags under her eyes and her dark blonde hair pulled up into a messy bun really speak for themselves, yet, she is still quite pretty.

“I— yes, please.” I take the handle of the suitcase in one hand and lift it up as if it was made of paper. “I’m sorry you had to hear that,” she mutters under her breath. “It's just that I really need to get to the train station before ten-thirty.” 

I tell her that I also need to catch a train, omitting the part where I need to meet my Environmental History professor in New York to analyze this time period's atmospheric conditions, and it turns out we have to take the same train. I guess that talking with someone from this timeline won't hurt anyone, right?

We chat all the way to our wagon, stopping for ice cream before getting there. She introduces herself as Monica and I tell her my name, but ask her to just call me Z. The train starts moving, and she narrates the genesis of her trip to Florida: how her long-distance relationship with her boyfriend wasn't working out for either of them and how she had to travel all this way to break up with him.

“It looks like a lot of work for someone who doesn’t deserve it. Why didn’t you do it over text or a phone call?”

Monica shrugs. “I never liked the idea of ending a relationship in any way that wasn’t face-to-face. It seems insincere, you know?” 

I nod. She stares into my eyes and I stare into hers, at the way the light accentuates her hazel iris and adds a slight touch of surrealism. We hold our gaze a little longer than we have to, then she asks with an inquisitive voice: “And you, what is your excuse to go to a Florida town in the middle of nowhere?” 

“Just killing time, I guess.” She raises an eyebrow and tilts her head at my answer, like a puppy who is being spoken to but does not completely understand the words. "I came here to make a study on pollution these days, and how it will... impact the future."

"Wow. That surely means more than just 'killing time'." Flashing her white teeth, Monica teasingly leans into me. "I come here with boyfriend drama and you come here to save the world."

We laugh and share more about our lives, our friends and family, our dreams and hopes. I discover that Monica is an English major at a prestigious university; she enjoys baking muffins and eating them with her dog, Harry. She also wants to adopt other animals and travel around the world to meet new people and cultures, much like what I do with time traveling and my History major, but I don't mention this to her. The First Rule of the Time Traveller is that we cannot alter the timelines by telling the people we meet that we come from the future or have any other major interaction with them. We are allowed to talk to them, of course, but we do not get to have love or business affairs and we are strictly forbidden to tell them about the future.

I look out the window and see an orange sky melting with the purple universe as the first stars make their way through the darkness. Monica curls up against me, lifting her feet and placing them on the seat. Heat rises to my face against the cold of the night and fights for its place on my cheeks.

“I’m glad we met, Z,” a yawn escapes her mouth but she doesn’t even try to cover it. “This has been the most blissful day in a long time. Please don’t leave me once it’s over.” Monica lifts up her chin and her stare penetrates my soul. “You really listen to me. Not just blankly like everyone else, but you really understand every word that comes out of my mouth. Everyone expects me to be this extremely put-together girl but it turns out I'm as much of a mess as the next person.” She lifts up her back some more. “With you, I can just be me and you don't seem to seek the perfection everybody does, but they leave as soon as they notice that I am clearly not perfect. And yet, you somehow make me feel like I am enough. It— it has been a long time since anyone made me feel like this.” The train bounces. The only thing between us is our heartbeat now, her face inches from mine. "Please, promise me that you won't go." I close my eyes. Her mouth lingers close to my lips, so close that her minty breath sends shivers down my spine. My gut sinks with guilt. I wish I could make her that promise and then keep it. I wish I could keep her next to me forever, not having to return to the heartless reality.

"I promise."

I wake up to the disturbing sound of the train braking. Monica is already awake and fills in a crossword on a piece of newspaper with a blue pen, her fine fingers scribbling words and flashing her bright nail polish, like one of those colorful baits that dazzle fish who are foolish enough to bite on them. Her nails match her bracelet, which dances to the rhythm of her wrist. She is truly beautiful, a delicate oil painting that belongs in a museum where people can appreciate her astonishing elegance. But just as an art piece, she is meant to be observed from a distance by people from the future, never meant to be touched in case that fingerprints may remain engraved in her skin. This is it. In two hours, she won’t be more than a memory in this time traveler’s mind. 

“Good morning, Z. I got you some coffee and a chocolate chip cookie from the dining wagon because they said breakfast time was over. I hope that is okay with you?”

“Yeah, of course,” I stretch my arms and get up, feeling the shame from lying to her last night. “Thank you.”

“I was thinking, maybe we could keep in touch after today? There is this Italian food restaurant that is so good and is just a couple of blocks from my house, and maybe we could go there sometime?” Her stare is almost begging me to say yes. She becomes aware of this and adds “of course you don’t have to agree. It was just an idea that came to my he—”

“I’d love to.” A huge smile lights up her face. She scribbles a number on a clean brown napkin and tells me to call her tomorrow at noon. 

Everything else happens in a flash. Picking up her luggage, walking out of the station. Monica shows me her yellow Volkswagen Beetle across the parking lot. It is time to say goodbye. 

“Monica, there is something I need to tell you—” Before I can say another word, she takes my face in her hands and presses her lips to mine. We kiss her warmth embracing my skin. Our bodies merge into one amorphous yet beautiful sculpture of two people who were just not meant to be. It's time for her to go. 

“No goodbyes, Zara. We agreed to see each other tomorrow, so I guess we can just say ‘see you later’.” 

Monica takes quick steps towards her car, dragging along a suitcase that is definitely too big for her. She takes a last glance back and her face lights up with orange light. Not sunlight. Monica realizes that too. Too late. The car hits her and all of a sudden all I hear is an exasperated scream which turns out to be mine. I see a word form in her lips, her last breath spent on saying my name. My limbs become anchors that keep me from running away or towards her; the whole world freezes in place, even birds stop mid-flight.

"Zara Craggs, you are under arrest for violating Clause Two of the Time Traveler's Act," a robotic voice says. "You'll be facing a trial yesterday at noon in the Supreme Time Court.