Ellie tightened her grip on the crimson blanket. Somehow, the thermostat had been lowered, and it felt as if it were forty degrees in her room. Outside, the lightning lit her room through her window, and her walls flashed with a mellow stance. She decided that she was going to have to turn off the air conditioner. Otherwise, she’d freeze and wake up a thousand years into the future. Keeping the blanket tight to her body, she stood up.

The wooden floorboards creaked with age as Ellie tiptoed to the A.C. switch. She squinted through the dark to read it. Eighty-two degrees.

“What in God’s name? Why am I so cold?” She slowly made her way back to her room, when something stopped her. It was an invisible force, a clear shield guarding her from stepping forward. A rush of cool air swept by Ellie’s left ear, and she could have sworn she heard the words, “Look at me.”

Thinking that she was probably only going a little insane, Ellie somehow managed to push through the invisible force field and she sat down on her bed. She felt a small amount of pressure on her right shoulder. Using her left hand, she felt her shoulder but there was nothing. She turned around, and there was nothing but stillness. The night crept into her veins, and she shuddered violently.

She heard it again, suddenly as it had come before, “Look at me.” Ellie’s eyes were brought to a particular spot in her room. There was a young man standing there.

“Who—How did you get in here?” Ellie’s eyebrows curved worriedly. She looked at her window, which was contently locked. She knew she had locked the backdoor and the front door before she had come upstairs.

“I’ve been here. You never noticed?” The man asked.

“If I had, I would have asked a long time ago.”

The man’s shoulders slouched. “Oh.”

“What are you doing in my house?” Ellie questioned, still concerned.

“I live here…” The man’s eyes widened.

“What?”

“You don’t remember me?” The man’s eyes became dull.

“What’s your name?” Ellie swallowed.

“Ivan Theodore.”

“That’s… that’s my last name.”

“Where do you think you got it from?” Ivan smirked slightly, as if coming across a fond memory.

“I lost my memory three years ago, Ivan. I… I don’t remember anything.”

“Why do you think you trust me so sincerely?”

“Because you haven’t pulled out a gun yet, I suppose,” Ellie said, glancing over at her bookshelf. When she looked back up at Ivan, he was missing.

“I’m behind you, dear.” The male voice recited.

“How’d you—“ Ellie suddenly felt a warm hand on her shoulder. No, it wasn’t warm, Ellie decided, it was passionately hot, fire against her skin. She closed her eyes, and saw an image flash before her eyes.

She was holding a bouquet of yellow roses; they brought out the beauty of her dark skin. There was a white veil flowing from her black hair, and she was in a white dress that swept the floor. There was a young man next to her, holding up a wine glass.

Another memory flashed, and she saw a newspaper article. There was a picture of a wrecked car, and underneath it read the words, “Incident on lane 53.”

Back into reality, Ellie felt a small, beady wet tear fall down her cheek. She turned around, and put her hand in Ivan’s.

“Do you remember, dear?”

“If I knew the words to say, I would say them.” Ellie was on the verge of an emotional breakdown. Then, she realized that she could feel her fingertips against her palms.

“So you’re not really here after all?”

“For you, I can be.” Ivan smiled.

“Just for ten more minutes?” Ellie could feel more tears swelling at the base of her eyelids. She could feel a hand inside her own again, and she leaned forward so that their lips met in embrace. They slowly pulled apart.

“What would happen if I let go?”

“I don’t ever want to know, Ellie.”

“What if I went with you?”