Emma Chen

The universe, Felix realized, wasn't just offering him encounters -- it was offering him closure.

"Felix? Felix Ryder?"

Emma Chen stood before him, as beautiful as she'd been at eighteen but with an adult polish that made his mouth go dry. Unlike his other displacements, they weren't in some random location but back in the very park where they'd broken up the night before leaving for different colleges.

"Emma," he whispered, the familiar scent of her jasmine perfume hitting him with a wave of nostalgia so powerful it nearly knocked him off balance.

"What are you doing back in town?" She tilted her head, the afternoon sun catching the highlights in her dark hair -- now cut in a sophisticated bob rather than the long waves he used to run his fingers through.

"I'm not sure I am," Felix replied honestly.

Emma laughed, the same musical sound that had once made his teenage heart skip beats. "Still the philosopher, I see."

"How long has it been?" he asked, knowing exactly how long -- nine years, two months, and seventeen days.

"Too long," she said, stepping closer. Her eyes searched his face with surprising intensity. "I've thought about you."

Felix's heart hammered against his ribs. "You have?"

"We never really had our goodbye, did we?"

Without warning, Emma reached up and touched his face, her fingertips cool against his skin. Felix's two-minute timer mentally began ticking down, but for once, he didn't care about the countdown.

"I missed you," he admitted, covering her hand with his own.

Their lips met with the familiar choreography of old lovers who still remembered each other's rhythms. Emma tasted of coffee and mint, her body fitting against his as perfectly as it had all those years ago. Felix pulled her closer, one hand at the small of her back, the other tangling in her hair.

"We could have been something," she murmured against his mouth.

"We were something," Felix replied, feeling the seconds slipping away.

As they kissed more deeply, Felix felt something unexpected -- not just desire, but release. The what-ifs that had haunted him about Emma began dissolving with each touch. This wasn't a new beginning; it was the proper ending they'd never had.

When the familiar dizziness began at the edges of his vision, Felix pulled back just enough to look into her eyes one last time.

"Be happy, Emma," he whispered.

"You too, Felix. It's time for both of us."

The park dissolved around him, and Felix found himself back in his apartment, standing in the middle of his living room. But instead of the usual disorientation, he felt something new -- lightness. The spreadsheet on his computer suddenly seemed ridiculous, a futile attempt to quantify experiences that defied categorization.

Felix closed the file without saving the latest update. Whatever was happening to him wasn't about collecting experiences or correcting past mistakes. It was about learning to live now, in this moment, as if, perhaps, there may never be another.