Techno had desperately needed a change in his life and deciding to pointedly not listen to his therapist about not acting like a depressed teenager and drop everything and run away, he did.

The neighborhood had been quiet except for the occasional passing car, which did not help his ongoing battle with isolation and loneliness. You see the whole, ‘graduating from college but god help me I’m not going back to my family’s house because that’s the entire reason he went to school again’ plan hadn’t gone exactly how he wanted. Don’t get me wrong he loved his family but he needed to be away.

So, he packed a bag and found a nice little town to call his own for the time being, the house he found in turn was beautiful.

It had been a week since he moved in, he’d gotten a small job that payed the bills and he had gotten settled into the house. There were two bathrooms in the house, four bedrooms, an office. Honestly it was a big house for being made in 1970 but it was the cheapest house in the market so he bought it.

In that week someone from 1970 gave him a call, he’d assumed you were a crazy person and hung up but then figured out you’ve got some weird magic time traveling phone.

He’d learned about you, you used to live in the house he now lives in.

He’d told you a little about himself in turn, saying how he moved in after college because he needed a place to live.

So he’s been talking to him, he gets off of work an hour after you do, so every day around five o’clock you two would call each other, like right now.

“Tell me more about the future,” you asked, leaning against the wall near the white hand print you’d put against the wall the first day they’d talked to see if the house was magic or the phone was, apparently it was the entire house.

“I don’t want to break the space time continuum with telling you anymore.” He teases, placing his hand over your own, the paint is faded and chipped away since it was in 2024 with him, old, while it was still new with you in 1970.