*Ava*
Life feels almost normal again. It’s strange how quickly my days have slipped back into a rhythm, as if the weeks I spent in the fifteenth century were just a vivid dream I finally woke from.
Every morning, our apartment smells like fresh coffee, and I wake to Luca singing as he makes us breakfast. He kisses me goodbye, and I drive to work.
As I stand in front of my class, a marker in my hand, writing dates on the board, the murmur of students flipping through notebooks is comforting. I’d missed the way history opens up in front of curious minds, missed the debates and half-formed theories that turn into “aha” moments. My voice feels stronger now when I lecture, like surviving everything I did has somehow settled me more firmly into myself.
After class, I walk across the green to
