Friend
At some point in everyone’s life, they begin to wonder about the past. Previous events, ancestors, the list is virtually endless. Some imagine that any action of going back in time would go seamlessly, and any changes would happen without consequences; other believe the very idea of “time travel” is a paradox. Both are true, in their own ways, and at the same time, both are false. One could “go back” and change nothing, while another could do the same and change the very existence of their life. As one of the “paradox enthusiasts” of time travel, I myself wouldn’t have believed any tale of time travel had the experience been had by someone else. Skepticism is the basis of my beliefs: I’ve got to see it to believe it. So when my greatest friend, who I shall refer to as “Friend” as I recall this memory, came to me once, and offered to join them on “the journey of a lifetime”; of course I had to inquire. “A casual affair, my
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Their delight was evident, and I returned the contagious smile. A short stroll down the street and a few sidewalks brought us back to Friend’s house. A can of pop each, a chocolate bar split in half and a walk to their garage later, I found myself standing in front of Friend with their shaky hands covering my eyes. A few seconds passed, and a feeling of lightheadedness washed over me and chills traveled up and down my spine. Friend, however, didn’t budge, and I assume they had done this many times before. A nearly blinding light filled my eyes when Friend lifted their hands from my face and stepped to my side. Once I adjusted, I was met by the sight of a simple forum. The signs were all in French, as was the dialogue around us. Four years of French in high school hadn’t been a complete waste, and I was thankful for fluency. It was after this train of thought that I began to fully take in my