Jon stared. Nazis? The Covenant? What's he, I mean, what was I talking about?
"Jon, what do you want for dinner?" his mom asked him, startling him out of his thoughts.
"Uh. Just whatever," Jon replied.
"Are you okay, honey?"
"Sure."
She looked towards the letter in Jon's hands. "How's your pen pal?"
"Huh?"
"Your pen pal? The one from Argentina?"
"Oh. Yeah. He's fine."
"That's good." She turned to leave, then looked back. "Are you sure you're okay?"
"Yeah. I'm sure, Mom."
She smiled and went back downstairs.
But Jon wasn't okay. He had to figure out what to do, without messing up the timeline.
