Jeremiah Hawthorne, all of nineteen years and some change, wiped the sweat from his brow as he hefted another log onto the growing pile. The Blue Ridge Mountains loomed in the distance, a constant reminder of the wild frontier that lay beyond. It was 1753, and life on the edges of Colonial Virginia was as challenging as it was rewarding.

“Jeremiah!” his father’s voice boomed from the newly-built cabin. “Best be finishing up, son. Your ma’s got supper ready, and there’s a storm brewing.”

Jeremiah nodded, his eyes scanning the darkening sky. The air felt thick, charged with an energy he couldn’t quite place. As he gathered the last of the wood, a flash of lightning illuminated the forest, followed by a clap of thunder so loud it seemed to shake the very earth.

And then, everything went white.

When Jeremiah’s vision cleared, he found himself sprawled on his back, the smell of ozone heavy in his nostrils. He blinked, expecting to see the familiar wooden beams of their cabin’s roof. Instead, he was met with an expanse of blue sky and the gentle rustling of leaves.

“Pa?” he called out, sitting up with a groan. “Ma?”

But as he looked around, Jeremiah realized with growing alarm that nothing was familiar. The trees seemed different, smaller somehow. And the air… it smelled wrong, filled with scents he couldn’t identify.

Stumbling to his feet, Jeremiah’s eyes widened as he caught sight of something in the distance. It was a road, but not like any he’d ever seen. It was black as pitch and smooth as glass, stretching off into the horizon.

“Lord have mercy,” he muttered, crossing himself. “What manner of devilry is this?”

As if in answer, a monstrous roar filled the air. Jeremiah whirled around, his heart pounding, expecting to see some terrible beast. Instead, he saw a sleek, metallic contraption hurtling down the strange road at an impossible speed.

“Witchcraft!” he cried, diving for cover behind a nearby tree.

For what seemed like hours, Jeremiah huddled there, watching in a mixture of fear and fascination as more of these loud, colorful beasts sped by. Eventually, hunger and thirst drove him from his hiding spot.

Cautiously, he made his way towards what appeared to be a settlement in the distance. As he drew closer, his jaw dropped. The buildings were enormous, reaching towards the sky like the Tower of Babel itself. And the people… Lord, the people! They wore the strangest garments he’d ever seen, many of them practically indecent.

“I must have died,” Jeremiah muttered to himself. “This surely must be some form of purgatory.”

As he stumbled along the sidewalk, gawking at the sights around him, Jeremiah failed to notice the young woman walking in his direction, her eyes glued to the small glowing rectangle in her hands. The collision was inevitable.

“Oof!” the woman exclaimed as they collided, her strange device clattering to the ground.

“My deepest apologies, miss!” Jeremiah said, scrambling to retrieve the object. “I pray you’ll forgive my clumsiness. I fear I’m not quite myself today.”

The woman looked up, her annoyance melting into curiosity as she took in Jeremiah’s appearance. He cut quite a figure in his homespun breeches, linen shirt, and leather waistcoat.

“Are you… cosplaying?” she asked, a smile tugging at her lips.

Jeremiah blinked. “I beg your pardon, miss? I’m afraid I don’t understand your meaning.”

The woman’s eyebrows shot up. “Wow, you’re really in character, huh? I’m Zoe, by the way.” She held out her hand.

Jeremiah hesitated for a moment before taking it, bowing slightly. “Jeremiah Hawthorne, at your service, Miss Zoe. I… I find myself in something of a predicament. Might I impose upon you for some assistance?”

Zoe’s smile widened. “Sure, why not? I was just heading to grab some coffee. Want to join me? You can tell me all about your ‘predicament.'”

And so, Jeremiah found himself following this strangely-dressed woman into an establishment called “Starbucks.” The interior was a cacophony of noise and unfamiliar smells, causing him to flinch.

“What’ll you have?” Zoe asked as they approached the counter.

Jeremiah stared at the menu board in confusion. “I… I’m afraid I don’t recognize any of these beverages, miss.”

Zoe laughed. “Okay, I’ll order for you. Two grande caramel macchiatos, please,” she said to the young man behind the counter.

As they waited for their drinks, Jeremiah’s eyes darted around the room, taking in the strange sights. People sat hunched over glowing rectangles similar to the one Zoe had dropped earlier. Others spoke into small devices held to their ears, seemingly talking to thin air.

“Here,” Zoe said, handing him a paper cup. “Careful, it’s hot.”

Jeremiah took a cautious sip and nearly choked. “Good heavens! What manner of brew is this?”

Zoe grinned. “Welcome to the 21st century, my friend. Now, why don’t you tell me what’s really going on? Because I’m starting to think this isn’t an act.”

Over the next hour, Jeremiah poured out his tale, describing the storm, the flash of light, and his sudden appearance in this strange new world. To his surprise, Zoe listened intently, her expression shifting from amusement to concern to wonder.

“So, let me get this straight,” she said finally. “You’re telling me you’re actually from 1753? That you somehow… time traveled?”

Jeremiah nodded solemnly. “I know it sounds fantastical, Miss Zoe. I scarcely believe it myself. But I swear on my father’s good name, every word I’ve spoken is true.”

Zoe leaned back in her chair, her mind racing. “This is… incredible. If you’re telling the truth – and I’m starting to think you might be – this is the discovery of the century. But…” she trailed off, biting her lip.

“But what, miss?”

“But we can’t tell anyone,” she said firmly. “At least, not yet. If word gets out, you’ll be swarmed by scientists, government agents, the media… It would be chaos.”

Jeremiah’s brow furrowed. “I’m afraid I don’t understand most of what you just said, Miss Zoe.”

She smiled sympathetically. “No, I suppose you wouldn’t. Look, what I’m saying is, I want to help you. But we need to be careful. For now, let’s focus on getting you acclimated to this time. We can worry about the bigger questions later.”

And so began Jeremiah Hawthorne’s crash course in the 21st century. Over the next few days, Zoe introduced him to the wonders and oddities of modern life, each new discovery leaving him more amazed than the last.

Electricity was a particular source of fascination. “You mean to tell me,” Jeremiah said, staring in awe at a lamp in Zoe’s apartment, “that this light comes not from flame, but from lightning trapped in a glass bulb?”

Zoe couldn’t help but laugh. “Close enough, I suppose. Wait until you see the TV.”

The television, as it turned out, was a bridge too far for Jeremiah’s 18th-century sensibilities. Upon seeing moving images appear on the screen, he let out a yelp and attempted to exorcise the “demons” trapped within.

“I assure you, Jeremiah,” Zoe said, trying to stifle her giggles, “there are no demons involved. It’s just technology.”

“Your ‘technology’ seems indistinguishable from witchcraft,” Jeremiah muttered, eyeing the TV warily.

Cars proved to be another source of both wonder and terror. The first time Zoe convinced Jeremiah to ride in her Honda Civic, he spent the entire trip with his eyes squeezed shut, muttering prayers under his breath.

“How can you be so calm?” he demanded as they lurched to a stop at a red light. “We’re traveling at speeds that would kill any horse!”

Zoe patted his arm reassuringly. “Relax, Jeremiah. I’ve been driving since I was sixteen. It’s perfectly safe.”

“Sixteen?” Jeremiah’s eyes widened in horror. “You allow children to command these metal beasts?”

But it wasn’t all confusion and culture shock. Jeremiah proved to be a quick study in many areas, particularly when it came to modern cuisine. His first encounter with pizza was nothing short of religious.

“This…” he said, his mouth full of cheese and pepperoni, “this is surely the food of the angels.”

Zoe grinned. “Wait until you try ice cream.”

As the days passed, Zoe found herself increasingly drawn to this man out of time. His wonder at the world around him was infectious, making her see her own life through fresh eyes. And his old-fashioned manners and genuine kindness were a refreshing change from the often-jaded attitudes of her peers.

For his part, Jeremiah was equally fascinated by Zoe. Her independence and knowledge amazed him, challenging many of his preconceived notions about a woman’s place in the world.

“In my time,” he confessed one evening as they sat on Zoe’s balcony, watching the sunset, “a woman with your learning and spirit would be considered… well, unseemly.”

Zoe raised an eyebrow. “And what do you think?”

Jeremiah smiled, a blush creeping up his neck. “I think you’re the most remarkable person I’ve ever met, in this century or my own.”

As they gazed at each other, the air seemed to crackle with the same energy Jeremiah had felt just before his journey through time. But before either could act on the moment, a sudden clap of thunder shattered the silence.

Jeremiah jumped to his feet, his eyes wide. “That sound… it’s just like—”

Before he could finish his sentence, a blinding flash of light engulfed him. Zoe cried out, shielding her eyes. When she looked again, Jeremiah was gone.

For a long moment, Zoe stood frozen, staring at the empty space where Jeremiah had been. Then, slowly, a smile spread across her face. She pulled out her phone and opened her weather app, scrolling to the extended forecast.

“Don’t worry, Jeremiah,” she murmured. “I have a feeling we’ll be seeing each other again… in about 271 years.”

And with that, Zoe began to plan for the longest long-distance relationship in history.