Chapter 28: The Glitch in the Timeline

The lobby of the Majestic Cinema smelled of artificial butter and nostalgia. For Katherine, the evening was supposed to be a simple escape. She had been dying to see 65; ever since Adam Driver had appeared as Kylo Ren in the new Star Wars films, she was a dedicated fan. While she usually gravitated toward the emotional wreckage of a good chick-flick, she had a secret soft spot for high-stakes thrillers and sci-fi.

Noah, for his part, didn't care much for the dinosaurs or the laser guns. He was more interested in the way Katherine’s eyes lit up when she explained the plot, her hands moving animatedly as she talked about the "prehistoric-meets-futuristic" vibe. To him, the most captivating show was the way the neon lobby lights reflected in her hair.

"We need the large popcorn," Katherine declared, her voice bubbly as they approached the concession stand. "And the blue ICEE. It’s a cinematic requirement."

"If those are the rules, I’m happy to follow them," Noah chuckled, balancing a tray of sodas as they began to walk toward Theater 4.

They were halfway down the carpeted hallway when the world seemed to tilt. A hand, small and trembling but surprisingly firm, caught Noah by the crook of his elbow.

They both stopped. Standing before them was a woman who looked to be in her mid-seventies. She was short, wearing a floral cardigan that smelled faintly of lavender and peppermint. Her gray hair was styled in tight, grandmotherly curls, and her hazel eyes peered through thick, oversized glasses that magnified her pupils.

"Noah? Noah Riley, is that you?" the woman asked. She moved her glasses up the bridge of her nose, her gaze intense, searching his face with a desperate kind of recognition.

Noah’s expression went stone-cold for a microsecond before he smoothed it into a mask of polite confusion. "I’m sorry? Do I know you?"

Katherine leaned in, giving the woman a warm, empathetic smile. "Hi there. I’m Katherine. Are you a friend of the family?"

The woman didn't look at Katherine. Her eyes remained locked on Noah, widening in a mixture of shock and sheer disbelief. "My, my, my... you haven't aged a single day. Not a day! It’s me, Noah. It’s Connie. Connie Addams."

Noah forced a soft, casual laugh, though his heart—the cold, silent thing in his chest—felt like it was being squeezed by a vise. "I think you have me confused with someone else, Ms. Addams. My name is Noah, but I just moved to town recently."

"Confused?" Connie giggled, a sound that was both sweet and haunting. "I don't think so. You don't remember taking me to the Spring Formal in sixty-eight? I didn't have a date, and the boys were being so cruel... you showed up at my door in a powder-blue suit and told me I was the prettiest girl in Lexington."

Katherine’s smile faltered. She looked from the elderly woman’s wrinkled, honest face to Noah’s perfectly smooth, youthful jawline. The math didn't add up. It wasn't even in the same universe as the math.

"I’m sorry," Noah said, his voice dropping into a tone of practiced apology. "That sounds like a lovely memory, but I wasn't even born in the sixties. You must be thinking of my grandfather, maybe? People say I look just like him."

Connie frowned, her hazel eyes clouding with a sudden, sharp sadness. "Your grandfather? No... no, the eyes are the same. That look of someone who has seen too much." She sighed in defeat, her hand dropping from his arm. "I’m sorry. Old age is a thief, I suppose. It steals the memories and the faces. Enjoy your movie, kids."

She turned and walked slowly toward the exit, her gait heavy with disappointment.

"That was... definitely weird," Katherine mumbled as they finally reached their seats in the darkened theater.

"Maybe I just have one of those faces," Noah suggested, his voice tight. He adjusted the armrest, his mind screaming at him to stay calm. Be normal. You’re a teenager. This is just a crazy lady. Don't let the mask slip.

As the trailers began to roll, the explosions on screen were nothing compared to the noise in Katherine’s head. She sat in the dark, the popcorn untouched in her lap. Connie’s words were on a loop: You haven't aged a day... the Spring Formal in sixty-eight.

Katherine looked at Noah in the peripheral light of the screen. His profile was perfect—not a wrinkle, not a blemish. He looked like a statue carved from marble. It’s impossible, she told herself. People don't stay young forever. That’s for TV shows like 'The Vampire Diaries' or 'Twilight.' In real life, it’s just a coincidence. She’s an old woman with a failing memory.

But Connie hadn't looked confused. She had looked certain.

"Give me a minute," Katherine whispered, leaning toward Noah’s ear. "I have to go to the restroom."

"Okay," Noah whispered back, his eyes fixed on the screen. "I’ll save your popcorn."

"You better," she giggled, a hollow sound, before slipping out into the aisle.