Year 1978. The air was thick with promise that summer. I found myself in an old diner on Route 66, the neon buzzing softly. I ordered a coffee, black, and sat by the window. A man, dressed in a dusty trench coat, sat opposite me, uninvited but oddly familiar. "Do you remember the comet?" he asked, stirring his drink, eyes distant. I smiled and nodded, though I had no recollection of a comet. Perhaps it was the one they had seen in the year 1965, which was supposed to pass the Earth closely again in 1994. Yet, here we were in a timeless dialogue, sipping coffee under flickering neon lights. Continue Reading
Year 1840. A chilly morning in Philadelphia, the city still waking under a blanket of mist. I was attending a small gathering in a weathered townhouse, the air aromatic with coffee and conversation. A man with spectacles and a fine waistcoat discussed the intricacies of a steam engine, his voice animated. "Imagine the year 2000," he pondered aloud, "when machines will do our bidding with such speed, we might travel across the continent in mere hours!" Laughter erupted, but I sat silently, a future traveler bemused by their quaint vision. See Another Encounter
Year 3021. Inside the hum of a bustling metropolis, I navigated through a crowd of holograms and neon. I met an old friend in a park, where reality felt momentarily still. "Remember our ventures in the 20th century?" he smiled, his image flickering slightly. "I still laugh at your attempt to fit in at the Woodstock festival." I chuckled, the memory vivid yet surreal as if it belonged to someone else entirely. Return to the Past