The Romantic Time Travelers - A Reunion For The Ages

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A violet dawn or maybe an afterglow from a nearby nebula, spills across an alien plain where colossal, bio luminescent mushrooms cluster like lanterns.

Far behind them, jagged rock spires climb into a sky braided with stars and the sweep of a distant galaxy, its ribbons of color framing the scene with impossible depth.

Standing amid this surreal garden are the two time traveler lovers. He is a handsome Caucasian man in a steampunk-inspired chronosuit: brass gears nestle at his shoulders and wrists, little pistons breathe, and strands of tiny, colorful lights trace the seams of the fabric like constellations made portable. The suit has the lived-in polish of a long-loved instrument, scuffed leather, a faint clockwork scent, and a thin halo of steam that always seems to escape when he moves.

She is an attractive Asian woman in a contrasting chronosuit that reads as future-sleek: smooth, reflective material mapped with intricate neon filigree that flows across her arms and chest in animated patterns. Her suit hums softly, the neon lines reacting to the local electromagnetic tang in delicate, living script.

They freeze for a moment as if time itself has stuttered, then both faces break into the same delighted, incredulous smile. He lifts one gloved hand in a half-salute; she mirrors it, fingers tipped in light. Around them the alien flora seems to breathe with their presence, mushrooms brightening as if applauding.

There’s a history written in the way they stand: familiarity woven with the long distances and long duration only time travelers understand. He studies her for a beat, eyes warm at the corners, the little gears at his collar ticking like a private metronome.

Then, quieter but unmistakable against the chorus of the otherworldly night, he says:“You met me at a very strange TIME in my LIFE.”
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