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She checks the boarding passes and smiles as she hands them back to Miller. ‘First class is this way, sir.’ She gestures to the left. ‘You’ve just made it on time. The captain has ordered us to secure the doors.’

Miller gives a brisk nod, and I turn to see another stewardess pulling the doors shut.

And every drop of blood drains from my head as I glance down the tunnel, towards the departure gate. It’s an illusion; it has to be. My curiosity gets the better of me and I creep forward as the closing door begins to hamper my view, wanting to get as close as I can, blinking the whole time, convinced I’m seeing things.

Then I stop.

I’m rooted to the spot, my mind empty, my blood freezing in my veins.

And I’m staring at me.

It’s definitely me . . . just nineteen years from now.

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