Could It Be You? |✓

(3) Evidence

* * *

If there were no witnesses at a crime scene, and no one saw it occur, did the fire, then, not exist?

Time-travel to the past is predominantly used for only one purpose - to validate truths, and uncover lies.

-Collin

* * *

Emma wakes with a massive headache to the persistent ringing of the doorbell. With great effort, she drags herself out of bed and saunters to the door. She knows who she's expecting - the person's here to join her in being responsible and concerned citizens of their country.

"Happy Election Day! Did you just wake up? Did you even vote?!"

The person invites himself in and drops a bag of chips onto the kitchen counter. Emma stares at his outfit, recognising that he's wearing the army green T-shirt she had given him. She closes the door and follows him in wordlessly, too familiar with this routine to be concerned over his actions. She plops down on her couch and sighs, her head throbbing.

"Of course I voted. I crashed when I came back. I'm still hungover, I think," she rambles.

"That's my girl!" he calls from the kitchen, and moments later, appears in front of Emma with a glass of warm water and pills. "They're supposed to help. The headache, you know."

Emma looks at his gesture, and a smile quickly breaks across her face.

"Thanks, Ethan."

He reciprocates with his own dorky grin and turns to grab the remote, switching on the TV.

"How's Sarah?" Emma asks. When he does not respond, she extends her leg and nudges his shoulder with her socked foot.

Ethan does not even give it a bother, and simply grabs her foot to shift it away. He turns back to give her an unamused glance, then returns to flicking the channels.

"Not replying me. Don't know where she is."

"You obviously didn't read my message," Emma comments. She had written him many important pieces of advice the night before to help him out.

Ethan frowns. "You mean all your drunk texts, including the 'I'm gonna get married next year and you're gonna be my husband!' message?"

Emma's face turns bright red. "What? I did that?"

She pounces for her phone like a cheetah and draws out her conversation thread with Ethan, then facepalms herself for the slew of incorrigible messages fired at him. She does not even have any recollection of sending them.

"I always read your messages," he adds, a smirk hanging across his lips.

The enthusiastic newscaster looms over as she rattles away statistics for the election, and Emma's eyes widen at Trump's lead. That inevitably leads her to recall her dream, when some guy-from-the-future told her his prediction for the results. She muses that she has inborn psychic abilities, then quickly shakes it off, finding that silly.

"Do you want some popcorn? I'm gonna go get some," Emma suggests. Ethan mumbles something like a yes, and she promptly gets up to go to the kitchen. When she gets to the cupboards, she pauses at the note stuck to her fridge. She plucks it off, recognising Alice's scribbles right away. 

At that, Emma freezes. She had convinced herself that the only dude she talked to at the bar was a figment of her imagination. It was all a vivid dream, she had told herself when she woke up this morning. But this?

Her mind races as she tries to make sense of the memory, playing through moments like a movie reel and finally zooms into the only physical evidence of the encounter - the necklace. First things first, perhaps she could find it to see if it exists, as a proof of everything. She hastily snatches a bag of popcorn and hurls it at Ethan when she passes the living room. She wastes no time in beginning her search, pulling out drawers and opening cupboards as she tries to retrace her actions last night.

After some moments, Ethan peeks in, wondering what on earth she has disappeared for.

"I'm searching for something," Emma responds curtly.

"What is it?"

"A necklace."

Trying to make himself helpful, Ethan crouches down and starts looking under the rugs. Minutes tick by and the television has been left running in the living room. Emma gradually tires out from the search, having found nothing, as she comes closer to the conclusion that yes - she had indeed made up parts of the encounter, if not all of it. She must have made up the nonsensical parts herself, and she heaves a sigh of relief.

Suddenly, Ethan calls from the living room. "Is it this? Found it dropped beside the pedestal! "

Emma stands from her position and stares incredulously at the thing dangling from his fingers, unmistakably the same necklace that Collin gave her the night before -the silver chain with the giraffe pendant. She inhales deeply, confronted with a truth she doesn't quite expect.

"It looks like the one I have," Ethan blurts, as he grabs the pendant with his thumb and index, twisting it carelessly.

* * * *

"Why do you have the same necklace?" Emma asks.

They sip coke on the couch as they watch the map of America turn redder by the minute on TV. Ethan leans his arms against the couch, and his short, dark hair sways softly in the breeze.

"Umm. I got it a few years back for someone. But I didn't give it to her, soooo it's still with me." He says matter-of-factly. He darts a look at her.

"Not you of course."

"Oh," Emma says.

"Someone got rejected!" she teases, to which he rolls his eyes and snaps at her to shut up.

And just as they do so, the newscaster emerges once again with breaking news. A popcorn silently drops from Emma's mouth as she gawks at the outcome - Trump has won. 

Emma looks down at the "Collin" necklace now hanging from her neck, then at Ethan, and the gears in her head turn. It doesn't take much for someone to get suspicious.

She knows full well that not everything's a coincidence.

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Dedicated to chasingwalls :) Despite her bio, she is definitely not just a 'mediocre' writer.  Please do check out her stories and show her support! 

--> Again, thanks so much for reading! Have a lovely day!