It is like watching herself until it isn't - there comes a point where Wanda melts into Wanda, and the past is the present, and they are all there again. Pietro. Her mother. Her father. The future is an echo; a dream she just woke up from. This is real. Pietro's fist on her arm as he pretends to punch her, her father's laugh. The dull glow of the television.
She knows what comes next.
But for now, this is the world. The four of them, this half-remembered home, her favorite shows. This is all of it. A few moments more.
