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Neither of them said anything for a while. Likely, they both needed to process the fact that Abby had basically written the real-life love story of two women, with neither of them knowing that they were real people, along with the fact that they were also having visions of things from the past, which neither of them could explain. Then, Abby nervously cleared her throat, and Quinn waited for what she’d say next, hoping that Abby had the answers that Quinn had been searching for herself.

“Why did you just compare me to Deb, Quinn? You said thatI’djust told you that thing about tornados.”

“At the risk of sounding like a broken record, I don’t know.”

“But don’t you?”

“No, because I can’t know that.”

“Quinn, you do. You know what this means, just like I do.” Abby turned to her.

“When did they die? What was the date on the obit?” Quinn asked.

Abby looked back at the computer and said, “Oh, no.”

“What?”

“1950. They only had a few years together. God, in my mind, they grew old together, but it looks like Harriet came back from the war, and they only had about five years.”

Quinn swallowed and asked, “Are you getting them, too? The visions?”

Abby turned to face her and replied, “Yes. You?”

Quinn nodded and said, “I don’t know what it means, Abby. It could all be a coincidence. Those women in the photo don’t even look like us. But when I get the images inmy mind, itisus. It’s you and me, and we’re–”

“In love,” Abby added softly.

“Not just in love. I thought I was in love once. But if this is love, I was very, very wrong because the way I love you, it’s–” Quinn stopped herself. “The way Harriet loved Deb, I mean – it’s different. It feels special, epic, soulmate-level stuff, meant to be, or, I don’t know, timeless.”

“That’s how it feels when I’m back there, too, whereverthereis. It’s like I’m so madly in love with Harriet, orDebis, at least, but I’m here, and it’s too much. All I can do is write down their story, and even then, it’s still all too much.”

“At least youcanwrite it down. AllIcan do isthinkabout it.” She looked over at the bathroom. “I just got this vision of you standing in front of a mirror. It’s you, but not, and it’s me, but not. You’re telling me that you have wrinkles and are getting old, and I come up behind you and–”

“Tell me that you’ve always wanted to grow old with me?”

Quinn took a step back. Abby covered her mouth with her hand.

“I got that one on the way here,” Abby revealed. “In my car. It was so real, Quinn.”

“Did it… actually happen?”

“Did you see it?”

“See what?”

“In the corner of the room, there was a calendar.”

“No, I was… I was too busy staring at you. Or Deb, I guess.”

“It said that it was 1919. That’s what I could make out, at least.”

“1919? Then, it’s not Deb.” She pointed to her laptop. “This says she was born–”

“It wasn’t Deb,” Abby interrupted. “Whoever it was would’ve been at least forty or forty-five in that vision. It felt like she just started noticing her first wrinkles to me. It can’t be Deb.”

“So, who is it, then? Abby, who the fuck are we seeinglike we’re them or they’re us? What is going on here?”

“We can keep digging, keep trying to find out. Maybe Paul is still alive. He would be pretty old, but there’s a chance he’s still around. We could ask him.”