**(Lucas)**
I was hoping for Abigail, so my heart leapt when the door actually cracked open.
Seeing those brown eyes was the confirmation, and I barely noticed that the rest of the woman was aged about thirty years. She was softer around the edges, but the same beautiful brown hair, bright eyes, and warm smile completed her demeanor.
My mouth opened slightly and my eyes narrowed about the same amount, contemplating what this meant.
I wondered if I had traveled forwards through a channel of time, and the inevitable father was showing me what I would be missing out on. Perhaps on the other side of the door was her children, now already teenagers perhaps, and another man, her husband.
That man would not be me.
But instead of pimply teens and a lucky Joe, I was met with a wet, blonde canine with unruly, curly fur. It sprung up on its hind legs, imprinting wet paw marks on my slacks. I felt its paws, meaning I wasn’t simply an omniscient scout ferried by father time.
‘Oh dear,’ future-Abigail said. ‘I’m so sorry!’ And she fell into a laugh.