“Every second I’m wasting away in here, I could be out there doing something productive.” She waved both hands dismissively. “Like saving humanity from extinction. You know, important things?”

“Mm.” I tapped the butt of the pen to my lips and adjusted my posture. The office-chair squeaked, eliciting a wince from Annie. Seated in a slouch on the chestnut armchair, between swinging her gaze from the door to the window and back to me, Annie’s dark eyes glittered with unwavering conviction. All the tests from the past two days were inconsistent from what the nurses and Dr. Panut reported.

I grumbled wistfully to myself. Even if she did claim to be from the future, as long as she wasn’t an imminent threat to herself or others, what harm could releasing her potentially inflict? Although a self-proclaimed “time traveler”, Annie had passed all cognitive tests with ease. She’d gotten the date, president of the US, and location correct. She had a high IQ. The worrying aspect was the absence of any reliable identification and the bizarre style of bodysuit she was found wearing collapsed outside the YMCA.

Apart from her sharp interior, Annie’s body screamed anxiousness, from the incessant jackhammering of one leg, to the painful plucking of hairs, and raw, bloody lips.

If only she could open up to me, perceive me as an aid instead of a threat barring her way.

“Tell me something unbelievable to prove you’re from the future.”

Her expression turned sour. “Betty White doesn’t make it to a hundred.”

“No!” I slammed the pen against the desk, lips peeled back for an anguished growl. “So help me God, if you are lying, I will keep you here longer.” I stabbed my index finger toward her. “Don’t you dare jinx Betty White.”