"Are you sure you want to try again?" asked Father Time once more.
"Yes," the man asserted, staring intently into the pool of water before him. The surface rippled and shimmered. Blurs coalesced into images, images from his past.
Years rolled back and he was standing there in that distant autumn again.
Orange and brown leaves surrounded him, and she was bathed in golden sunlight, as glorious as every other time he had come to this memory.
"I love you," he said, again. A tear came to her eye.
"Goodbye," she replied. She turned, and left him, again.
Father Time looked at the man with pity. He willed him to leave. The man's hair was greying now. The sands of his time were slipping away relentlessly no matter how much he fled into his past.
"Take me back," the man croaked out, choking back his own tears. Father Time frowned. "It won't change anything, no matter how many times you go back. No matter how many ways you say it."
"Take. Me. Back," the man ordered. Father Time nodded and the pool rippled again, and again, and again.