[that earns a genuine laugh - something he's finding himself doing more and more of in recent months. maybe Hazel really had been on to something. maybe it was time to be a kid again in certain situations. but speaking of that ...]
You're ... surprisingly close and yet staggeringly off the mark. I'm a fifty-six year old time traveler trapped in my fourteen-year-old body.
[he sips his coffee and stretches, taking a deep breath before diving into the explanation she will most assuredly want]
Back home, I had the ability to travel through time and space. I knew about the space, first - we dubbed it 'blinking'. I'd close my eyes and concentrate, and just 'poof' myself over to somewhere else. The more I learned and tested what I could do, I realized that time travel was feasible. My father didn't want me to do it, but I was positive I could make it work. I'd done all the research, projected all the variables. When I was fourteen, we got into an argument about it over breakfast, and I ran out of the house. The first thing I did was run down the sidewalk and try blinking forward through time. A few hours, first. Then to summer. Then to winter. Then, again: and I overshot and found myself smack in the middle of the apocalypse.
[he takes another sip of coffee while that all sinks in for Annie, but not long enough for her to ask anything, yet. he has one more crucial detail to add]
Trouble was, the only variable I didn't consider was how much energy time travel took as opposed to just blinking. When I tried again, I wasn't able to even cross the street. I was stuck.
prepare for a novel
You're ... surprisingly close and yet staggeringly off the mark. I'm a fifty-six year old time traveler trapped in my fourteen-year-old body.
[he sips his coffee and stretches, taking a deep breath before diving into the explanation she will most assuredly want]
Back home, I had the ability to travel through time and space. I knew about the space, first - we dubbed it 'blinking'. I'd close my eyes and concentrate, and just 'poof' myself over to somewhere else. The more I learned and tested what I could do, I realized that time travel was feasible. My father didn't want me to do it, but I was positive I could make it work. I'd done all the research, projected all the variables. When I was fourteen, we got into an argument about it over breakfast, and I ran out of the house. The first thing I did was run down the sidewalk and try blinking forward through time. A few hours, first. Then to summer. Then to winter. Then, again: and I overshot and found myself smack in the middle of the apocalypse.
[he takes another sip of coffee while that all sinks in for Annie, but not long enough for her to ask anything, yet. he has one more crucial detail to add]
Trouble was, the only variable I didn't consider was how much energy time travel took as opposed to just blinking. When I tried again, I wasn't able to even cross the street. I was stuck.