You didn’t believe him when he told you.

He said he was from the future, a few decades into the future, as a matter of fact. A future where the two of you have already met, where you’re married and the most in love that he’d ever felt in his entire life.

You nearly shut your door in his face where he stood, but then he quickly rambled off a childhood memory of yours, one that you haven’t told another soul.

You stop in your tracks, he quickly justifies his knowledge—you tell him in a few years, and he’s remembered it as proof that you do know him. He’s looking at you, dark eyes wide and a stray curl falling in front of his face.

He’s desperate for you to believe him, and he tells you just as much. He mentions something about an inflection point, someone that’s going to come along in your future and prevent you two from meeting; he’s come back to you to meet you before that can ever happen.

“Do you trust me?” He asks, nearly pleading with you as he stands in your doorway.