When she said that, I got the faint flicker of the idea that she could be like me. But that flicker had happened many times throughout the past I-don’t-know-how-many-centuries, and I’d gotten used to the idea that that flicker was just wishful thinking; my loneliness driving the delusion that perhaps I could be like Doctor Who and have a companion.

Anyway, I said:
“Uncanny! I must be psychic.”

“You could be. In my time, I’ve learned that us humans have far more brilliant, weird capabilities than we give ourselves credit for.” She bought her hands up and wiggled her fingers mockingly as she said: “If only we believed!”

I laughed at that. Quite fitfully, in fact. I hadn’t laughed like that in decades.

“Hey,” she said, leaning over to me conspiratorally. “If I told you something crazy, would you think I was crazy?”

“Maybe. Tell me and see.”

She took a deep breath, and when she exhaled, hastily said:
“I’m a time-traveller and I come from the year 2001.”

It was all I could do to stop myself from gawping.