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𝐁𝐄𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀 𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐓 𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐋
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The first time I saw him, he was sitting alone on a bench I swear I've never seen before. And I would know—after all, I've lived in this city my whole life. Anyway, I'd just stood there, debating with myself on whether or not I was imagining the whole thing when at that moment, I noticed that he was sad.
Maybe it was my Good Samaritan conscientious, or maybe it was my intuition, but at that moment, I'd made up my mind—I was going to help him.
And so, I approached him.
"Hello." I had greeted.
"...."
He didn't greet back. Instead, he had shuffled his feet, kicking up fluffy clouds of dust.
Huh? I'd frowned. Didn't he hear me?
"Hello?" I had tried again, passing a hand in front of his face for good measure. "I want to help you!"
This seemed to have done the trick, as he jolted. Immediately afterwards, his eyes went to my face.
I remember that at that moment, I'd gasped.
Why?
Because he was the most attractive man I've ever met. But, within those dull, almond-shaped eyes of his, I remember seeing no signs of life. Zilch. Zero.
At the time, that had really unnerved me, but now, I know why—and I hate that I didn't do anything.
Anyway, he had gazed at me with absolute shock on his very handsome face, the grip that he had on his book bag tightening as he jumped to his feet.
"Are you...talking to me?" he'd whispered.
I'd nodded. Uh, yeah?
At my nod, he had turned his head to the side, a look of diluted happiness appearing on his visage. His smile had pierced my heart, for some reason.
...It still does, actually.
"Thank goodness." he sighed, rubbing the nape of his neck boyishly. "I was beginning to think that no one would ever notice me!"
There's something about those words still makes me uneasy to this very day.
"Can you help me? I'm waiting for a bus, but it hasn't come yet. It's taking a really long time..."
He then pulled out a historically old-looking brochure, opening it with a traditional flourish. Naively, I'd thought nothing of it, peering over.
...And then I saw the year listed on the bus operating times schedule.
1992.
The year at the time was 2015.
How?
And that's when I realized: he's not normal.
