I didn’t imagine him. I sort of thought that maybe I had but I went back and he was there. I didn’t imagine him.

I should probably call Dr. Bright but I’m seeing her tomorrow anyway and I’m still…I don’t know, buzzing. I’m exhausted and exhilarated and completely unbalanced, but I want to write down as much as I can remember.

A few hours ago, I was setting Darwin’s dinner down when I got the feeling. I’m not sure what I was anxious about. My anxiety has actually been a lot better recently. Dr. Bright…well, now that everything is out in the open between us (or mostly everything – I’m not sure I’ll ever know all that woman’s secrets), she’s been really helpful. Almost like a real therapist.

But I don’t really think it was anxiety that brought me back – I think it was that my body just wanted to go back to where he was. Like it knows it has this important mission or something. I don’t know, Dr. Bright probably has a theory. I traveled into the same town center that I had first gone to. It was raining slightly and I could feel the ghosts of raindrops on my skin as they fell through me. Out of pure instinct, I started to walk towards the field where I saw him last, hoping against hope that maybe he was still there. And he was.

He had almost the exact same reaction as the first time – he stood up, confused, shocked – maybe a little scared. But this time I was prepared. I was nervous – I could feel butterflies fluttering around my stomach and my vision went a little swirly for a second – but I was able to hold on. I think I must have been smiling at him because his eyes flit around my face for a second and then he started to smile too. He was the first one to speak.

“Hello,” his voice sounded rough, like it hadn’t been used in a really long time. Which, I suppose was probably the case.

“Um, hi,” I said, for lack of anything better. It’s always a little weird hearing my voice in other times – it sounds like I’m speaking in a vacuum, or underwater.

“Are- are you real?” The smile crumpled a little bit, his brow furrowing. I’ve never seen anyone look so beautifully hopeful and crushingly sad all at once.

“Um, yeah, yes. I’m real,” I laughed a little bit, unsure, and the smile bloomed back onto his face.

“How?”

“I’m not sure, honestly. Same way you’re here, I’d imagine.”

This made him grimace. I don’t know why I said it; I know the why and the how of his situation but…I don’t know, I didn’t want to admit that for some reason. I wanted to hear it from him.

“Somehow I doubt that,” he said, frowning. And then, suddenly, the frown was chased away – his lips quirked upwards and he squinted into the sun for a moment before stepping towards me, “Do you want to take a walk with me? I was just about to go on my daily afternoon jaunt. I like looking at the sheep.”

It was such an odd thing to say – if I were in his position, I would be asking questions, I would be suspicious, I would be…well, I’d be totally freaked, let’s be honest. But he was so cavalier. Not the whole time – I was there for three days and he definitely let the bravado crack – but still. That’s who he is, I guess. He doesn’t get spooked like I do.

I smiled back (or at least I tried – I’m not used to smiling at people) and agreed. We walked through the fields, glancing at each other, both uncertain about what to say, how to begin.

“What’s your name?” he asked, after a few moments of nervous silence.

“Sam. Um, Samantha- it’s short for Samantha. But most people call me Sam.”

He stepped in front of me and turned around, walking backwards as he extended his hand.

“Pleasure to meet you, Sam.” Habit made me reach out my hand to shake his – our hands collided awkwardly, moving through each other. As always, I couldn’t connect to anything solid (was he solid?) but for once, I could feel a spark of something. Maybe it was my imagination, but it sent a shock up my arm.

“Whoops, I guess I should have expected that,” he grimaced, “Anyway, I’m Mark. But I’m sure you already knew that.”

“I’m sorry?” Did he know? That his sister had sent me? How could he know?

“Well, obviously you’re a figment of my imagination, so naturally you would know my name,” he said, turning back around to walk forwards again, seemingly unconcerned.

“I’m not- I’m not a figment of your imagination. I told you – I’m real.”

“Well, that’s what you would say, isn’t it?”

“Have you…have you had hallucinations before?” I wouldn’t have been surprised honestly. I’ve never hallucinated while on a trip but sometimes I’ll have hallucinations in the present of people I’ve seen in the past. Only sometimes though. It’s not a big deal.

“No, but there’s a first time for everything,” he said with a smile.

“Well, that’s not what’s happening here. I’m a time traveler – like you.”

“I’m not a time traveler,” he said, frowning again. It’s like the corners of his mouth were a yo-yo; up down up down up down.

“Then how’d you get here?”

“How do you know I haven’t always been here? What makes you think I’m from the 21st century at all?”

“Well, the fact that you just referenced the 21st century is a good start. Also, people from other times can’t see me. So you’re obviously not from here.”

“You do this a lot?”

“Um, yeah. Yeah I do,” I mumbled.

This went on for a while – Mark would insist that he was hallucinating me and, in turn, I would offer up more information about my ability. Once I was able to convince him I was an actual, sentient human being that exists in modern day, we just…hung out? Is that what to call it? We talked and laughed and got a bit serious and it was incredibly surreal. I’m not sure I could write down everything we talked about, but the first and last moments really stick in my mind.

I don’t know why I left. I wasn’t feeling nervous or scared. Actually, for the first time in a very long time, I was feeling…content. Happy? No, not happy. Not quite. He’s still stuck and I’m still…me. But maybe at ease? Anyway, despite being at ease, I could feel my body start to flicker away. We were lying in the grass after our third “afternoon jaunt”; I tried to warn him.

“Um, Mark?”

“Yeah, Sam?” (I like how he says my name).

“I think something’s about to happen. Don’t freak out – but I think I’m about to go back.”

“Oh. Do you have to?” his brow did that crinkly thing again.

“I don’t really have a choice. But I’ll come back, I promise.”

“Okay. If you don’t, I’m going to have to figure out a way to hallucinate again,” he said it like a joke, in that casual way that he has, but there wasn’t a trace of a smile on his face.

“You didn’t make me up. I swear. I’m real-”

And then I came back.

That was now…three hours ago? I wonder how much time has passed for him. How does that work? We didn’t get to that. I should ask him that next time I see him.

I will see him again. I promised.