"I don't know..." I said, trailing off my words in thought. My eyes flickered from one place to another, never staying at the same one place. "It didn't feel like a dream. It felt like I was actually there. It was just so tangible... the feelings, the scenery, him..."

"It must have been a dream, Lily." Oliver took my hands into his, trying to catch my eyes. I didn't let him. "You know you couldn't have been alive in that era. It was centuries ago!"

"I know, but maybe there was some sort of magic involved, you know? Some sort of fold in time or phenomenon that took me back," I said.

He didn't respond.

Sighing, I pulled my hands out of his. "I know it sounds like I'm crazy, but why else would I have been wiped from the face of the earth for a few months with no apparent reason if I didn't happen to somehow go back in time? Why else would I not be able to fully remember what exactly happened? I mean, I apparently just suddenly appeared in that same gallery where I first disappeared. You remember, don't you, Oliver?" You remember I went there especially because they were showing pieces from the Qing Dynasty."

"Lily, you know there's no such thing as time traveling or whatever other fantasy you're suggesting."

I didn't say anything. After a few minutes passed, I stuffed my wallet into my bag and stood up, grabbing my coat. My tea had already gone cold — being neglected for the past 30 minutes. I wasn't about to gulp it all down before I left. "I understand that it's hard to believe, but I don't want to see you right now if all you're going to do is tell me I'm crazy."

I saw him get up from his seat to stop me, but I turned to leave before he could do anything.

"Wait — " I could hear the exasperation in his mind — the shortness of breath someone had when words were stuck to their throat and frustration pulsed at their temple. "Lily, please — "

There was no use trying to explain myself in front of someone who couldn't ever trust me.

Sometimes I wondered if it would be better if he just went with whatever I said even if I did sound like I was insane, but I would never know because he wasn't like that. He always had a hard time believing me, even with the smallest, little thing. He always thought I was a natural idealist and dreamer who couldn't ground herself into reality. He only thought he was my anchor, but honestly?

Honestly, he wasn't.

I couldn't slow down my thoughts to understand. I couldn't open my mind and let people tell me I was crazy. It didn't matter if what I said seemed impossible... I just knew that somehow in these past months, something had happened that took me to another world. I might have been unreasonable with Oliver, but it didn't change anything.

I stopped myself for a moment, head down with my hand still clenching my coat tightly in a fist. Lifting my head up to the sky, I let out a deep breath of air and closed my eyes.

I remembered waking up in that gallery after my disappearance drowsy and out of breath as if someone had sucked all the oxygen from my lungs. It had been yesterday near midnight and the gallery was deserted. The lights were off, save a couple that lined the floors and flickered whenever I moved.

Staggering to my feet, I had placed a hand against the wall for support and dug my fingers into my shirt, feeling my heart squeeze painfully. A dull throb had started at the base of my head, pounding loudly but was much less noticeable than the beating of my own heart. I hadn't known why, but I felt a particular pain there that I hadn't been able to understand.

When I had finally controlled my breathing and straightened, a face stared back at me. It was a painting, beautifully done in ink, shaping the face in such a way that I could feel myself breaking again. Shadows caught the hollows of the cheeks and eyes and brushed age into it, but I could still recognize him.

Him.

But how? How?

I hadn't known his name, and I hadn't felt the heat that flushed my face as the sadness had taken my breath away again, but I had known that I'd somehow seen him before when he was much younger. I'd met him and spoke to him and spent days with him and it all had seemed too real to not be true.

That was when the gallery's security had found me like a broken doll on the floor, sobbing for some unknown, yet familiar man I had barely any memories of.

I opened my eyes and swallowed, feeling my throat getting tight at the emotion. Putting on my coat, I pulled the strap of my bag to my shoulder and continued walking, swiping a few fingers under my eyes to catch stray tears.

The sun was setting, disappearing pas the tall buildings in a sky painted with colors I could never be able to describe.

Perhaps it might have been another passing thought, but the memory of a dawn that looked too much like the setting sun came to mind. I remembered that it was the same in color, rising from behind the sharp peak of a mountain where I had first seen him.

But I didn't think I'd ever meet him again.

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.