The Goodbye Smile

"I'm going to figure out a theory of time travel," Len announced.

The sentence hung in the cold air as the two friends ran along the lakeshore. It was early February, and the temperature was sixteen degrees below Celsius.

"Where did that come from?" asked Orin.

"It's been on my mind these past four months," he said. "It'll take time, pun absolutely intended, and a ton of work, but I'm going to do it."

Orin smiled inwardly at his friend's boast. The two friends continued running, their headlamps illuminating the darkened roadway.

"What if you could? Who would you want to meet?" He instantly regretted the insensitive nature of his question. "I'm sorry," he said.

If Len was offended, he didn't let on. "Oscar Wilde," he blurted out. "Just ten minutes in his company - can you imagine the thrill?"

"I can't," said Orin. "Who is Oscar Wilde?"

Their gentle breathing punctuated the still silence of the morning. They were both now in the zone, as they called it: that place where you ran on automatic pilot, with no aches or pains and the mind in a Zen state.

"My God," said Len. "He was London's most brilliant playwright at the end of the 19th century," said Len. "He would light up a dinner parties with his wit. "How about you?"

Orin thought for a moment before answering. "My grandfather," he said.

"Oh?"

"He was at Normandy at D-Day. He died when I was seven. He never talked about the war when he came back. Kept it all bottled up inside."

Len said, "How cool would that be to go back and meet your late grandfather?"

"I'd ask him about the scar," said Orin.

"Scar?"

"It was the shape of an 'S' that ran the length of his forearm. It gave me the creeps."

"A battle scar, no doubt."

"Dunno."

They reached the turnaround point and stopped to catch their breath. When they began running together a year earlier, both would have had to stop several times before reaching this turnaround point, but now - with training - they could get there without taking a break.

Len took a drink of water and breathed in the cool, crisp air. He looked towards the lake as a strong wind whipped across the snow-packed surface. "This is better than any therapy," he said. "I feel so alive out here, at one with the universe."

"You're starting to worry me with talk like that," Orin said.

Len smiled.

"How you doing overall?"

"I'm fine," said Len.

"Something's on your mind."

"You don't believe me, do you?"

"Believe what?"

"I'm going to figure out time travel."

"And I'm going to the moon next week. I'll send you a postcard."

Len laughed. "Oh ye of so little faith."

The two shared small talk and then picked up the pace again, this time with the wind at their backs as they made their way along the roadway.