I'd been playing cards for near all my life. And, when I wasn't yet allowed to play cards with the adults, I was watching from the corner of the room. It was tradition, in a way. As a kid, I always ran to get the cards whenever I knew there was going to be a game. I looked forward to it every time, especially as I grew older. It was my chance to prove myself, my chance to impress.

Card games meant my sister was home to visit. They meant my brother and his friend would play Uno with me in the other room while the adults played their games. And they meant I got to invite some friends of my own over too, if I could convince either Vivienne or E-, no, some of my other friends to come over for a while.

Only happy memories. Only fun times.

How strange it was, to hold cards in my hand, and wish I were doing anything else.

Sitting at that little table with Ayer in those first few days, passing the cards back and forth to shuffle them and playing game after game, I felt none of the familiar excitement. I was just tired. I didn't care for the game, it didn't matter to me. It wasn't the same, without my family there. There was no reason to win, no reason to play.

But I played anyway. To distract myself, maybe. To kill time. To try and feel the way I felt before, even if time and time over it was proven impossible. I missed playing cards. I thought playing those games with Ayer would make that feeling go away, but it didn't.

On the days we played those games, I dreamed of card games so often. Sometimes multiple times a night, if I choose to trust my memory. I'd dream of card games in real light, with well-worn cards and snacks my mom bought us for school but that we ate at home anyway. The dreams felt so real, so warm and light, that when they ended I often wondered if I was left feeling worse than before. I could never tell, at the time, if they were good dreams or not.

They didn't make me spin as much though, no dizziness, no confusion. I'd wake up homesick of course, but there were worse dreams to have. So I kept playing cards. Kept getting through the days, until I could leave that awful place and hopefully never have to go back.

As for Ayer, we didn't talk much for the first few days. Mostly I just dodged questions, hid in my room half of the time, basically avoided them as much as I could aside from our card games.

The first time we really talked while we were there was maybe part-way through our third day. I don't trust my memory, but from what I can remember, it went like this.

"So, what brings you to our small town?" They'd asked, as I shuffled the deck for a new game.

Was that sarcasm? Or did they really think this town was small? Doesn't matter, give an answer, something common.

"Work."

"Work? What do you... what does that mean?"

"It means I'm here for work." What else could it mean? People worked in this time, I knew that much, why were they confused?

"Uh..." It wasn't working. How do I fix this? What's the problem? Can I just not say anything and leave it at that? How big of a deal is it?

Wait, how did they know I wasn't from around here? What gave it away? What happened, what did I do? Can I ask? Would that make it worse?

In the end I said nothing, and just started dealing the cards between us.

"You're a foreigner, aren't you?" They asked after a moment, as they sorted their cards. "You don't seem like you're from anywhere around here."

Instantly, I felt a kick of nerves. I took a breath to hold my voice steady, and chose my words carefully.

"No... is it easy to tell?"

I hoped to steer the conversation away from the question I dreaded: "Where are you from?"

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I had no answer for that, despite my research. Sure, I could give them a random name, but what if it doesn't work for some reason? What if they asked what it was like there? What if the place I said I was from had some weird laws saying I couldn't move away from there? What if it got destroyed years ago? What if they've been to that place, and I don't act like people from there either?

I didn't have answers, so all I could do was try and change the direction of the conversation. I tried to phrase my words in a way that would make them say things like, "No, not really, but..." or "yea, you..." That way, hopefully, they would tell me how I stood out, so I could change that, and not have to risk anyone else noticing that I stand out.

I was also hoping it would be a short answer, something simple that I could change easily. Maybe a word I use, or a phrase, or that stupid excuse of being in town for 'work'. But I was not that lucky.

"You're mannerisms, and your accent... and, I dunno, the way you hold yourself. The way you see the city around you. You seem as if you're seeing it for the first time. I'm not completely sure, you just stand out. Strange though, you don't act like anyone I've met, and I used to travel a lot to all kinds of places."

I remember my thought process at that moment. I was so heartbroken. Maybe not the right word choice, but the closest I can think of. The way they said it, I stood out like a sore thumb. I was different from the world in multiple aspects, in ways that yes, I had feared, but had never noticed. I had nerves that my accent would stand out, but I had thought myself to be getting better at mimicking theirs. My mannerisms? I didn't even know what they meant by that at the time. And yes, I was new to the city, but I thought I was doing better at hiding my surprise. My mask hid my expression, and I really tried not to swivel my head back and forth to take in my surroundings. Yet through all of that, I still stood out. What else was there I could do? Was there anything? Was I doomed from the start? I was, of course, but I was still in denial at the time.

I must have fallen silent for a moment, for Ayer seemed to notice something was wrong.

"Oh, sorry, were you trying to fit in? I just called you out there, I didn't mean to."

"It's okay. My own fault." I said, then cursed myself for saying it like that.

"Most newcomers don't really aim to match this place, is there a reason you're trying to?"

"I just..." think think think, don't say something stupid, "...I just feel like it." Are you kidding me?

It was the weakest thing I could have said, but they didn't question it, and instead for a moment seemed thoughtful.

"If you wanted, I could help you out?" They said, putting a card down in front of them. "If fitting in here is your goal, I could give you some pointers. Show you around the city, there's a virtual way to see it in here somewhere, and I could show you some of the more interesting pieces. Help you with your accent, show you what signs people typically use around here. I know a lot of people are coming here from out East, but it's kind of funny, I didn't picture you to be the kind to mimic a city's style. But I'll help you out anyway, of course, I've lived here a history so I know a fair bit."

I paused. Put a card down.

That was exactly what I needed. A tour guide. Someone to help me out. To show me what I was doing wrong, because I sure didn't know.

It would get rid of so many doubts. So many questions of was this normal or was this working, all that worry and now there was someone just offering to tell me.

I considered the catch.

I didn't know them. There were a hundred different possibilities of who they could be that would put me in danger. Every part of this world was dangerous. Why should I trust them?

They said they knew I stood out. What if they knew I was from the past? They studied history, they said, would they be able to tell I was from a thousand years back? What would they do if they knew? The offer could easily be a trap. A trick to get me to follow them into some secret science lab to study me for time traveling abilities or make me stay in this time forever recounting my memories and knowledge of my own time. What would a historian give for a first-hand account of life a thousand years before? We had writing, we had computers, we probably had stuff saved, would they even need that? Maybe they wouldn't care? But then there's the time traveling. That was something anyone would care about. And not in the kind of way that would get me home.

But it was just a tour. Some advice. Showing a stranger around town, not something I'd ever done before, but then again I wasn't the outgoing type, so maybe it was just something outgoing people did? Maybe it was normal.

And besides, what reason would they have to hurt me? They didn't know me either. Maybe they were a normal person, someone else trying to get by in this nightmarish dystopian world as well.

And even if it all turned out to be no help at all... it would still be nice to have someone around to play cards with. Even if it didn't feel the same as it did. If only for the dreams, at least.

I thought for far too long and said my response far too fast after making my decision, but I gave them my answer.

It was nothing, it would have no effect, I'd learn some information then go on my way.

It'd be fine, I thought. No big deal at all.

"Be grateful for the opportunities you're handed," as Vi would always say.

And so I tried to be. I tried to make the most of it.

But I really did end up just making it worse.