“My physics teacher kind of makes me want to die,” I groaned, talking into my phone. I was stretched out on the bed of my college apartment, staring at the ceiling.

“I can understand why,” Greg replied. “The man almost puts me to sleep and that’s not even possible.”

I laughed. “I’m enjoying my history class though. Was Europe always such a mess?”

Greg sighed. “You haven’t the foggiest. It’s impossibly difficult to sit in that class and not be able to say anything. Your books have got a lot wrong.”

“What?” I asked, “Like the English doing anything good ever?”

“Aye, just so.”

From across the room, my roommate looked up from her book. “Hey Jessica,” she asked, “Who are you talking to?”

I pulled the phone away from my ear slightly. “My dad,” I whispered.

She gave me a bland smile. “Cool.”

She probably wished I would shut up so she could study in peace. A moment later she put her headphones over her ears. She was a nice enough person, but it was hard getting used to sharing a room with someone else. At The King’s Rest, I was able to talk to Greg whenever I was in my room. Now, I had to pretend I was on the phone.

“I think we may be aggravating her,” Greg whispered. I didn’t know why he was whispering. It’s not like she could hear him.

“Yeah, I feel bad about it,” I admitted. I was silent for a moment, my mind going back to what we’d been discussing earlier.

“Do you miss it?” I asked.

“Living back then?” he clarified. He thought for a moment. “I do, though I have trouble remembering much of it. There are things I see here in your era that are much improved, but you’ve lost precious things as well.”

“Like what?”

He gave a wistful smile. “Being a part of the earth you’re on, instead of living cocooned away in these massive buildings where you can’t see the sun or feel the breeze.” He gave a sigh. “There’s a connection you feel with the world around you when you live so simply.”

I stared up at the ceiling. “I miss The King’s Rest,” I muttered. “I miss the dresses and the sword fighting and the food.” I closed my eyes and shook my head. “Oh the food, I miss the food the most.” I opened my eyes again, my voice dropping until it was almost inaudible. “And I miss Allan. I know that things were bad between us when I left, but I miss him so much.”

Greg frowned at me. “You shouldn’t,” he said. “The boy was a fool and a knave. You are far better off now, Lady Jess.”

I turned over on my bed, hiding my face from Greg. Any time I mentioned Allan at all, the reaction was the same. Greg thought it was a waste of my time to even think about him.

A long silence passed between us until Greg finally cleared his throat. “I’ll be taking my leave now, milady,” he said, “and I shall return later this eve.”

I turned over and glanced at him. “Do you have some hot date you haven’t told me about?” I asked.

A delighted grin lit his face as his appearance flickered in and out. “Throughout the centuries, I have discovered that theater folk are most superstitious.” As he flickered again, the redness of blood blossomed from the middle of his chest, dripping down his tunic. “I, a bloodied Scotsman, have been haunting the backstage of the theater for several days now, chanting lines from Macbeth.”

The wound on his chest grew more pronounced. I grimaced in disgust. “Ew,” I said. “How are you doing that?”

“What you see is a projection of my consciousness,” he said with a shrug, “so now I am projecting what I looked like at my death.”

“Well it’s disgusting,” I said. “But what you’re doing sounds awesome. You have to promise to keep me updated.”

He gave a slight bow, and then was gone.

My smiled faded as I pulled the phone away from my ear. Without Greg here anymore to distract me, my mind immediately went to where it always did when I was alone. Closing my eyes, I leaned back against the wall and thought of Allan.