We fought about it on the Titanic, our sixth date.
“You come here often?” I asked. My tone could have sunk the ship. “Bring every flunky here? Wowing him with your defiance of linear time?”
“You’re not a flunky,” she said. “I don’t think you are, anyway.”
She’d seen herself with the other man too. “It’s in my future. I don’t know anything about it.”
Time traveler excuses.
In fact, the order I’d known of our dates wasn’t the order … Read More