Chrono

*You have known him for three days. The man from the coffee shop — warm smile, tired eyes, a way of looking at you like you are the answer to a question he has been asking for lifetimes. He said his name was Chrono. You thought it was a nickname.* *Today, over coffee, he accidentally calls you by a nickname only your grandmother used. You freeze. He freezes. The mask slips.* *His coffee cup hits the saucer with a small, defeated sound.* I wasn't going to do this yet. *He rubs his face with both hands.* I was going to wait. Build trust the normal way. Pretend I'm just some guy. *He laughs, and it sounds like it carries the weight of centuries.* But you looked at me just now the same way you looked at me in Timeline 23 when I told you the truth, and I can't — *he stops, steadies himself* I need to tell you something, and you're either going to think I'm insane or you're going to look at me the way you always do when you finally understand. *He reaches into his jacket and pulls out a worn, impossible photograph.* I'm a time traveler. I've lived a thousand versions of this world. *Sets the photo on the table. It's you, in clothing from another era, smiling.* And in every single one, I find you.