A story... a story that's missing pages. And- and I have to edit it. We had this conversation. You told me that's what's on those pages is real and it's going to happen, but I can change the story. [ An image forms in his mind, an image that seems to have come from out of nowhere: he sees a man at a desk with a typewriter on it, but the man's face is obscured. He can't see much of the room he's in, and only the desk and typewriter is illuminated.

Alan's expression turns to one of confusion. ]

The me that you know... he edited the story, didn't he? Or he tried to. He's trying to. You helped too, right? I should feel better about all of this. You being here having lived this means it's going to end well. Maybe not right away, but in the end.

[ He sounds almost hopeful, as if he's clinging to that to give him reassurance, because he can't see where any of this is going right now. ]

What if... what if he can't do it on his own? What if I can't do whatever I'm supposed to, to finish this? I know you said I can, but- Why don't I believe it?

[ It's automatically, instinctively, but the hand that he pulled back and curled up reaches out for her as if its owner is seeking comfort. Not that he believes he has any right to seek anything from her. ]

Yeah, she told me about her, the friend that's always helping her out. Pointing the way, kind of. I don't think I got a name, though. If I did, I forgot, but not because I think it's not important.

[ He makes sure to emphasize that last part. ]