For a moment, we just stared at each other in stunned silence. I was the first one to break it. “I came out here to read your book, um, as authentically as possible. But then there was a huge gust of wind, and somehow I ended up here.” “Where are you from?” he whispered. “A few miles east of here, in Wakefield,” I answered. “But I don’t think that’s the question you should be asking.” I paused for a moment, trying to figure out a way to phrase what I was going to say next that wouldn’t sound absolutely crazy. “I’m from the year 2017.”
With no answers to speak of, we settled into a conversation. As we spoke, I helped him bring all of the furniture back inside the house. We talked about all manner of things, from the state of the world in my time, to questions I had on the reading. “I know you must be asked this question often, but how did you just drop everything and move out here? Wasn’t there anything that made you nervous, like your friends, family, or job? Maybe money wasn’t much of an issue, but honestly, I’m more hung up on the other aspects of your life. It sounds really nice to be able to live so