Apologies to Anneliese-
Excuse the borrowing, oh, please.
It happened inadvertently
T’was certainly not deliberately.

He raised his aching head from the table where it had rested beside his laptop—he wasn’t yet used to drinking hard liquor so the scotch he had snagged from his father’s supply had hit hard. Fortunately his head hadn’t landed on the keyboard.  Muzzily, he looked around, wondering what had jolted him back  to consciousness.

“I said, ‘I am time.’”

He blinked, trying to focus past his headache, and saw a golden wisp that twirled and danced over the laptop. “Time? You don’t looked like Time.”

“And what does Time look like?”

He could see nothing for it to speak with, but he knew it was the source of words. “Don’t know.  Like a clock, maybe.” He heard a snicker and said, “Anyway, time isn’t human.”

“Do I look human?”

“If you’re talking to me, you should. Like an old man with a beard, I guess?”

He could hear a snort, but the wisp only twitched slightly. “Aren’t you even curious why I’m here?”

Well, no, he wasn’t curious. Now he remembered that what he was, officially, was miserable. He and his girlfriend were invited to go to a very fancy masquerade. He wanted to go in period costumes, like the pictures in a book he was using to research, for a term paper,  life and warfare in the 18th century. His girlfriend wanted to go as one of the less-dressed current celebrities. He objected. They fought. She found someone more appreciative to take her. He didn’t feel like explaining this to a gold wisp. “I suppose so. Why are you here?”

“You won a  . . .  lottery, I guess I could describe it.”

 His head sank back towards the table. “Nobody wins lotteries. Nobody real.

“You did.” He didn’t see it, but the wisp danced across his head.  He did wake up and heard, “Would you like to hear what you won?”

He scowled, but his head  rose again. “What did I win?”

“It’s a time thing. You can, in a sense, visit with someone from the past. Even from your own past, if you wish.”

“What about f rom my future?”

“No. From your point of view, your future is contingent upon your past. Upon past decisions.”

This was depressing.  It sounded so limiting His head sank back towards the table. “My head hurts.”

“Not interested? Not in an evening spent with anyone in history, including anyone in your own personal history.”

He started to shake his head, then groaned and put it down again.

“No one from your own past? No . . . what is the term you use . . . girlfriends?”

“Another fight? Forget it.”

“It wouldn’t really be her, you know.  It would be me. With a seeming  to look like her.  So you could say anything you wanted.”

“That’s cheating. Just an imitation person?”

“But a perfect imitation. After all, I’ve  encompassed the person. As I have everyone else. Who would you like to spend an evening with?” .A childhood friend? Your mother?”

“This is ridiculous. Anyway, my mother is still around. I can talk to her anytime. I owe her a call anyway.”

“Someone from history? Einstein? Napoleon? A dog you once had?”

He scowled. Yes he’d had a dog and felt terrible when it died. A fake Strider seemed almost blasphemous. Napoleon sounded too domineering. Einstein sounded too intelligent.  

“No.” But an idea was stirring around in the back of his mind.. It was reminding him of the Valentine Day masquerade. The one his girlfriend .. former girlfriend . . .was going to. With someone else. “Can you dance?”

“I think I could manage. What have you in mind.”

He opened his book and pointed to a picture, a drawing, not a portrait from life.. “Was she anywhere near as pretty as this in real life?”

The wisp hovered over the picture and said judiciously, “That may be something of a idealization. And tastes have changed some. But she was a fine woman. And it is permissible to do a little , . . glamourizing. You wish to go to your . . .ball with Marie Antoinette?”