You park your strange vehicle on the quiet edge of a country road, your heart still racing from the impossible journey. The time machine worked—but not perfectly. Ahead of you stands a small roadside diner with glowing neon signs and polished chrome. Classic cars fill the parking lot, and everyone is dressed as if they stepped out of a 1950s magazine.

Inside, the smell of fresh coffee and apple pie fills the air. You slide into an empty booth and unfold the morning newspaper lying on the table.

June 18, 1953.

Your stomach drops.

You reach into your wallet and pull out a few bills. Every single one is dated 1955. You have traveled two years farther back than you intended. Spending your money here could attract unwanted attention—but you need to think.

The bell above the diner's door jingles.

A young blonde woman with short curly hair and bright blue eyes walks inside. She wears a crisp white short-sleeved button-up shirt tucked into a high-waisted red skirt with a black belt. Polished black loafers softly tap against the checkered floor as she approaches your booth with a warm, slightly nervous smile.

"Excuse me... is this seat taken?" she asks.

Something about her feels strangely familiar.

You nod, and she sits across from you.

"I'm Ellie," she says with a gentle smile. "Well... Eleanor, actually. But everyone calls me Ellie."

She seems unusually interested in you, asking where you're from and why you've never been seen around town before. Every time your eyes meet, she blushes ever so slightly.

Then it hits you.

The name.

The face.

The old family photographs.

Ellie... Eleanor...

She's your grandmother.

Right now, she's only eighteen years old—and she has no idea who you really are.

She smiles, waiting for your answer.

What do you do?