Olivia Reed

Olivia Reed materialized before him like a ghost given flesh, her copper hair falling in waves around shoulders that seemed both familiar and strange.

"Felix?" Her voice carried the same musical lilt he remembered from sophomore-year philosophy lectures. "Is that really you?"

Felix stood frozen in what appeared to be a bookstore café, the smell of fresh coffee and paper surrounding them. Of all his displacements, this one felt the most deliberate, the most precisely calibrated to unsettle him. Olivia Reed -- the woman he'd dated for exactly three weeks before his insecurities had caused him to sabotage something potentially beautiful.

"Olivia," he managed, his heart racing as he mentally started his two-minute countdown. "You look ... incredible."

She did. The awkward college girl had blossomed into a confident woman, her green eyes sharp behind stylish glasses, her posture relaxed yet poised.

"Nine years and that's all you have to say?" She smiled, but there was an edge to it. "After you ghosted me mid-semester?"

Felix stepped closer, determined to apply everything he'd learned from his previous encounters. No hesitation. No overthinking. Just honest connection.

"I was terrified," he admitted. "You were brilliant and beautiful and I convinced myself you'd eventually realize I wasn't worth your time."

Her expression softened slightly. "So you decided to disappear before I could?"

"Classic Felix move," he said with a self-deprecating smile. "I've spent years regretting it."

Ninety seconds left. Felix reached for her hand, his fingers brushing against hers. "I'm different now. Or trying to be."

Olivia studied him, her head tilting in that analytical way he remembered. "You seem ... more present. Less in your head."

"That's exactly it," Felix said, excitement building. "I've been having these experiences --"

The shimmer began at the edges of his vision, far too early. Panic seized him.

"No, not yet," he whispered, gripping her hand tighter.

"Felix? What's wrong?" Olivia's concerned face began to blur.

"I need more time," he pleaded to whatever **** controlled these encounters. "I haven't learned --"

The bookstore dissolved, and Felix found himself standing in his kitchen, hand outstretched to empty air, the revelation he'd been reaching for vanishing like morning mist.