Attic, part 52

The specter pondered this for a long while. “Time flows well here, where you live. But that is not so everywhere.”

Jenny was starting to see the immensity of the gulf between them. She racked her brains trying to think of a way to bridge the gap. “Don’t you have time where you come from? Hasn’t anything ever happened to you that you wish you could undo?”

The specter seemed to think for a moment. “It is different,” he said. “the past and future flow together here, like a river, washing away all in its path. For us, time is a landscape, a place where memories are real — not merely illusions, as they are here.”

“‘Us’?” Jenny asked quietly. “Who is ‘us’?’

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