Time for me was linear, one chronological moment following another with no skips in between. For a hundred thousand years, I have roamed aimlessly through this earth, once so barren that you could have mistaken it for the moon if it hadn’t been for all the green. Humans had been nomads back then, hunter/gatherers until I taught them how to plant seed. That had been cheating, of course.

The gods hadn’t liked that.

Slowly, the cities began to erupt like volcanoes, rising up through the ground, spreading like lava. Then came civilization, and with it came the first problems in history. The rising lust for power, the creation of borders, and then those bloody monarchs with their need to own everything. I’d watched, half-amused, half-horrified at what had become of them.

Of us.

I was human too, and a lonely one. Moving from place to place, I traveled the world, never staying more than a decade in a single place. I did not age, ever unchanging. It was sometime in a tent with Genghis Khan that I first met her.

Sarah.

Flaming red hair with a fiery personality to match, she’d been captured and was seconds away from being ravished. I’d stepped out into the field, noting her clothes were otherworldly. She wore what the Englishmen wore. Something like trousers and a tunic, but in a material I did not recognize. Fascinated, I’d gone and, in rapid Mongolian, asked for her as a part of my war spoils. Miraculously, in one heated argument with Genghis Khan himself, she became mine.

“I won’t be here long,” she said when I’d taken her to my tent. “And I’ll bite you if you try anything with me.”

She was speaking in English, unaware that I understood every word.

“I will not harm you. You may go in the night when they sleep.”

Her eyes widened, and a moment later, a wide grin spread across her face.

“You’re a pretty cool guy, huh?”

I did not understand. It was warm in my tent, the fire pit crackling.

For many generations, I would not understand.

I met her again in the time of the Black Plague in England. I’d been carefully making my way around sick people on the street, fully aware that the gods were being cruel again, as they had been many times in the past. I passed her on the street, and this time, she had on clothes to fit the times. I’d been startled by her face—a face I hadn’t forgotten, not even nearly 300 years later.

“Madam,” I’d said, going after her. She’d turned around, and just like that, my heart had shattered. She was every bit as beautiful as the first time I had lain eyes on her.

“Hello,” she said, looking taken aback. “Have we met?”

I could see in her eyes that she was trying to place me.

“Once, many years ago, I saved a woman like you from ... well, something horrible. You must be a descendant. The resemblance is uncanny.”

“Oh,” she said, her eyes widening. “I know you.”

This could not be. I was the only immortal that roamed this earth. This, I knew for sure.

“Come,” she said, taking my hand. “Let’s talk somewhere more private.”

I took her to my home in the heart of London. It wasn’t too grand, but I called it home. It was cozy enough for me, bookshelves lining the walls, filled with my trinkets that I’d collected over time. Pieces of history.

“What are you?” she asked, taking a seat on my settee in my parlor.

“I am an immortal man.”

“I didn’t know such beings existed.”

“What are you?” I asked her.

“A time traveler.”

“I didn’t know such beings existed either.”