[ When she doesn't immediately respond, Alan just goes quiet too. Watching. Waiting. Listening. For what? He doesn't know. Somehow, this moment feels like one he shouldn't disrupt: it's a dream he doesn't want to wake up from, not yet. He knows it's Jesse, just older. It's still her, though. She's still the same person who let her crash on the couch in her rented apartment. There's just more time between them.

And apparently, there's familiarity, even if it's mostly one-sided. But then he watches as she presses her hands against his more, and he feels the way the "glass" between them vibrates. Strange. But not the strangest thing either.

What happens next is stranger, and not at all what Alan expected. He can feel her hands pressed against his: warm hands pressing into his own. Somehow, she's touching him, and he's touching her. But how? ]

How- How did you do that?

[ He feels warmth wash over the rest of him when she smiles at him. Again he feels like he can trust her, even though he barely knows her: either version of her. ]

.... What room? I don't understand. I'm not writing a story, or at least I don't remember writing one. There's pages that I don't remember writing. Is that what you mean?

[ His gaze shifts to her fingers that are trying to slip between his own. He doesn't pull away, even though it feels strange on some level. ]

You're Jesse. I came to you in Bright Falls because I thought you could help.

[ He shakes his head. ]

I don't understand. [ He repeats those words again. ] I don't understand any of this.