Matt Callaghan sat alone at a KFC and stared quietly out the window.

It was a nice KFC, as far as KFCs go. Adapted into an old, refurbished building, with gold fans hanging from high ceilings and textured millwork patterns on the walls. The booth he sat in, opposite a small poly-plastic table, was comfortable, the red high backed seating firm, yet comfortable enough. It was mid-morning, a little after ten, and there was a steady enough stream of customers, although nothing ever approaching what you’d call crowded or busy. Matt sat alone, facing the red chair opposite him, unnoticed and unremarkable, idly fiddling with a white receipt.

There came no rush, nor sound or movement. No gust or flash of light. Yet suddenly, without Matt even blinking, another person sat opposite him. A pale, blue‑eyed boy with white‑gold hair.

Somehow, Matt was not surprised.

“Nice of you to join me,” he said. The Time Child stared at him. Today, for whatever reason, it was wearing a school uniform.

“I never left,” it replied.

“Yeah,” sighed Matt, “I got that impression.”

They lapsed into silence.

“What’re you doing here?” Matt asked eventually. The Child gave a tiny, deceptively adult shrug. Its small face remained emotionless, yet Matt couldn’t quite shake the feeling that it was trying not to smile.

“Just keeping an eye on you. Two of them.”

“Well, I suppose someone has to,” Matt sighed. He paused for a moment as a teenage girl in a KFC uniform with mousey brown hair and braces approached and set a red tray with his meal on it down in front of him. It took Matt a few seconds after she left to realise why that bothered him.

“I didn’t know they did table service,” he said to no one in particular, or he guess the Child, since it was the only one sitting there. The boy reached over with a small hand and took some of Matt’s fries.

“Ah,” said Matt, rolling his eyes, “I see.”

“I like the salt,” the Child said mildly, “It’s the little things.”

“Sure.” Matt fell silent. “I’ve just realised,” he said, after a moment’s pause, “This is the first time I’ve heard you speak.”

The Child helped itself to another fry. “Does it align with your imagination?”

“Few things ever do.”

“Understandable.”

“I suppose you don’t really have that problem.”

“Less so, now,” the Child replied.

Once more they lapsed into silence – the soft hum of the air condition, the sizzle of frying oil, other people’s distant chatter and the occasional rush of cars outside the window melding together to create a soothing background hum.

“You were never trying to kill me, were you?” said Matt, his eyes narrowing slightly. He tried not to sound too put-off.

The Child’s face remained utterly innocent. “Whatever made you think that?”

“I never thought it,” Matt countered, perhaps a little petulant, “I wondered. Hypothesised.” He paused and sniffed, scowling at the boy across the table. “It was all just nudging.”

“Mmm. To prevent the paradox.”

“Right. Did Fredericks know?”

“Some,” said the Child, “Not all. He wanted to believe in destiny, and for his life to mean something, and I played into that.” The boy paused. “He was a very unhappy man.”

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“I was getting that.”

A longer silence this time. Slowly, Matt’s shoulders fell.

“Was I an idiot?” he asked finally, “For not giving in? Did I destroy paradise?”

“Paradise,” the Child mused with an air of incongruous philosophy, between mouthfuls of French fry, “Is rarely in grand schemes, and rarely where we expect. You were right to hold true. At least in my opinion.”

“Yeah, well…” Matt rested his elbow on the table and listed his head to one side, gazing blankly out the window. “Doesn’t feel like it.”

“The feeling will pass.”

“I’m having a hard time imagining that.” The words were soft, sad and resigned. He turned back to the Child. “Is she really gone?” he asked it.

“Not everywhere,” the Child answered, “Not always.”

“Not helpful,” said Matt, rolling his eyes again and turning back to the window.

The sky was grey, autumn leaves blowing in the wind. A bus drove past.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do,” Matt said eventually, “This… this is all new to me. Well-” he added, with a faint look at the people and the fast-food joint around him, “-not quite all.”

“They remain, fundamentally, the same.”

“Yeah,” Matt mumbled, “I suppose they do.”

He paused, watching the people with quiet eyes.

“The tech I find the weirdest,” he said after a while, “Everything’s so old.”

“Give it time,” the Child said with a shrug, “It’ll catch up.”

“Yeah, maybe.” Matt turned back to him and made a face. “And travelling everywhere?”

“You did that before.”

“I know but… at least I had options.” He shook his head. “I’m going to have to relearn modern history.”

“I can recommend some excellent textbooks.”

“You’re quite enjoying this, aren’t you?” Matt stated, fixing the Child with a narrow stare. The boy made no move to deny it.

“I like it when things come full circle,” it shrugged, “When an old day dawns on new potential. Cheer up,” the Child told him, “Things are brighter than they seem.”

Matt let out a deep sigh, the corners of his mouth twitching into a frown. He took a bite from his burger. “Where there’s life there’s hope, I suppose.”

The Child smiled.

“My father used to say that,” he said, reaching his little hand once more across the table.

“Did he also tell you to get your own goddamn French fries?”

“Not regularly.” The boy chewed and swallowed, then reached into the pocket of his grey baggy school pants and withdrew a plain white envelope. He slid it across the table to Matt, who opened the unsealed lip and peered inside.

“What’s this?”

“Money. Documents. To help you fit in.”

Matt tilted his head, his brow furrowed. “Are you looking after me?”

“I’ve always been looking after you,” the blue‑eyed boy said, “I always will be. It’s what we do. It’s what she would’ve wanted.”

“You miss her,” Matt said, puzzled.

The Child nodded, and for the first time since he’d arrived, he looked if anything a little sad. “It’s lonely out there, in eternity. It was nice to have someone to talk to, even if only occasionally, even if only for a moment.”

Against his better instincts, Matt felt a small surge of pity. “Well, you can always come talk to me, if you really get bored. Help me figure out everything that’s going on here.”

“It’s not that difficult to understand.”

Matt scoffed. “Easy for you to say, time traveller.”

At that, the little boy smiled. “Our paths take us many places,” he said, “But ultimately, all we are searching for is home.”

Then without a blink or a word he simply vanished, and once more the booth opposite Matt sat empty, as if he had never been.

“Thanks for the money,” Matt mumbled, still a bit resentful. Though at least the boy had, in a roundabout way, paid for his food.

He continued eating alone and in silence, staring out into the world. Across the road, people walked and chatted along the sidewalk, passing his face in the window with complete obliviousness. An old couple in felt overcoats sat waiting for a bus. A man in a suit stood with a one finger in his ear, talking animatedly into a flip phone. Across a minor road, on which the KFC sat on the corner, a group of girls emerged laughing from a store.

Matt finished his meal and wiped his mouth, then stood and took his trash to the trash can. He smiled and waved a quick thanks at the people behind the counter, pushed through the heavy old wood and glass doors, and stepped out into the brisk autumn streets.

Where to now, he wondered; what did he do, where did he go. The envelope the Child gave him weighed snuggly in his pocket, a small weight of comfort and security. Matt stood at the crossroads, gazing up at the light grey sky, thinking.

A shout of laughter broke him from his reverie. The girls who had come out of the shop across the road had stopped on the sidewalk, pausing to compare notes about something or contending where to go next. Matt watched them inattentively – then suddenly the group shifted slightly, and a figure caught his eye.

A tall girl, with long auburn hair and sharp features.

Face bright with laughter, she leaned back from her friends, staring confidently out across the city, grey‑blue eyes clear and confident. And just at that moment, the smallest gap in the clouds opened, and a beam of weak sunlight shone through.

Matt’s heart skipped a beat.

And across the road the girl turned towards him, daylight shining on her clear, unblemished face.

Their eyes met.

Matt’s soul leapt.

And she smiled.

Now, his mind whispered: Now.

The End