The last thing he ever said to her was that dreams could be real.
The words echoed in Elena’s mind as she stood at the edge of the rooftop, the late city steadily humming far below. She leaned on the railing as she stared up at the night sky, keeping her gaze on a lone star whose light barely reached her eyes, as if it were struggling to be seen over the city lights.
“Dreams can be real, huh…?” she muttered.
Her eyes fell to the sealed envelope she had been flipping around in her hands for some time now. With a quiet sigh, she pushed herself away from the edge, readjusting her glasses before tearing the envelope open.
The world around her seemed to grow quiet as she read. A faint grin crept onto her face. After a prolonged silence, she spun around and walked back inside, gently closing the door behind her.
As she passed her desk, her fingers brushed the items lining the shelf–a necklace, then a spare pair of glasses, then a cup of pens. At the end rested a faded picture frame, featuring a flustered girl sitting beside a laughing boy with pure white hair.
Her eyes lingered on that frame for just a moment longer before she set the opened envelope beside it.
“...Let’s see how far these dreams of yours can go, Aster.”
– 7 Years Later –
“Today’s the big day!”
As the first hints of sunlight began trickling in between the curtains, Elena pulled herself out of bed before stretching in front of the mirror.
Her routine soon followed as she washed up and began to get dressed, tidying up bits of her appearance to as much as she could care to.
Checking her reflection once more, she decided she had done enough and started heading towards her bag before turning back in irritation. In a series of quick motions, she rolled up her right sleeve just past her elbow, flexing her arm once.
“Ah, that’s better,” she sighed.
Having ensured that all her papers were packed, she now glared at the pre-written envelope packed all neatly at the center of her desk. She argued with herself for a bit, finally deciding to shove it in her bag as well while grumbling.
The walkways outside were much busier and noisier than Elena would appreciate.
Every energetic child carrying food was a dangerous obstacle to avoid. Every chit-chatting group of coworkers or friends was a traffic jam.
If anything, she at least felt thankful that the line at the local cafe wasn’t too long.
As she stepped through the doorway into the conference venue, the air itself seemed to change tones–Formal officials bundled in their neatly trimmed suits and artificial conversation that seemed less inviting than a brick wall. Doors were constantly opening and closing, and the sound of murmurs and brisk footsteps echoed around every corner.
She had probably made it halfway down the hall when she heard someone call her name from behind.
“Hey, Elena. You finally made it.”
She turned around to see him hurrying towards her, constantly readjusting his jacket as if it were moving out of place on its own. He had nearly reached her when he suddenly remembered to smile.
“I told you this would be a big deal,” he said, falling into step beside her as she continued walking. “You have no idea how much convincing it took for them to agree to this.”
“I know,” she replied, already trying to forget his name.
He awkwardly laughed, a little too loudly. “No, I really don’t think you do.”
They passed by a group of researchers whose conversation quickly grew hushed until they were a fair distance away again.
“I stuck my neck out for you,” he stated, glancing around, “People notice that kind of thing, so–” He lowered his voice. “Just– try not to make this too weird, okay?”
Unfortunately for him, she had already tuned him out.
“Listen, they’re not only going to remember you, but the person who brought you here. Please. Let’s not go into all of that dream… stuff, okay? The compression models, possibilistic limits, that’s plenty for someone like you–”
Elena froze.
He stiffly held in place too, turning his head to look back at her. “What is it?”
“That is my theory.”
He stared at her and then sighed. “You know what I mean.”
The doors to the conference hall were already wide open up ahead. Countless voices spilled out–loud, confident, unanimous.
“Look, if this doesn’t land well, it’s not just on you. They take their reputations seriously here. And while we’re on the topic, could you please pull your sleeve back down?”
“Yeah, yeah, I understand.”
Reluctantly she returned her outfit to its expected prim and proper state before continuing on alone.
“Good luck,” he added.
She couldn’t quite tell whether those words were meant for her or himself.
Regardless, she didn’t look back.

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