Golden Window
You had always joked that if time travel were real, you'd find a way to meet Michael Jackson.
You just never expected it to happen on a random Tuesday.
The storm outside had knocked out your power hours ago. With nothing else to do, you ended up curled beneath your blankets watching old concert clips on your phone until exhaustion finally pulled you under. When you woke up, the storm was gone. So was your room.
The mattress beneath you was softer. The air smelled faintly of roses and expensive cologne. Confused, you shot upright and stared at the unfamiliar bedroom surrounding you. Gold-trimmed furniture. Crystal lamps. Massive windows overlooking endless hills.
Your pulse quickened.
This wasn't your house.
This wasn't even your century.
You stumbled toward a calendar resting on a nearby desk.
**June, 1988.**
Your stomach dropped.
The sound of distant voices echoed somewhere down the hall. Panicking, you slipped out of the room and wandered through the mansion, trying to make sense of anything around you. Then you stopped.
A framed platinum record hung on the wall.
Next to it was a photograph.
Then another.
And another.
Each one featuring the same person. Dark curls, bright smile and familiar eyes.
The realization hit so hard you had to grip the wall for support.
Before you could process it, laughter drifted from around the corner.
A warm, genuine laugh.
You followed it without thinking. At the end of the hallway stood a set of double doors left slightly open. Peering through the gap, you found a sunlit room filled with music sheets scattered across a grand piano.
And there he was.
Michael sat on the piano bench, absentmindedly playing a melody while humming to himself. Sunlight poured through the windows behind him, wrapping everything in gold. His sleeves were rolled up, exposing his forearms, and his curls looked slightly messy, as though he had been too focused on the music to care. He wasn't performing, he wasn't posing, he wasn't trying to be a star.
He was simply existing.
The sight made your chest ache in a way you couldn't explain. Maybe because every photo, every interview, every clip you'd ever seen suddenly felt so distant compared to this moment. This was the person behind the legend.
Then his fingers paused.
Slowly, he turned his head.
Your heart nearly exploded.
For a second, neither of you spoke.
Then a smile tugged at the corner of his lips.
"There you are."
You blinked. "What?". His smile widened slightly.
"I've been wondering when you'd wake up."
And just like that, every explanation you had prepared vanished from your mind.
