His name was Father Dominic. He spoke English fluently and he was on a sabbatical leave from his post in France to study in America. He was old beyond his years, a man whose physical resemblance was that of an eighty-year-old instead of his rightful age of 58. At once you knew something was not quite right about him. Father Dominic's teeth ground together when he talked. His eyes were like a monkey's eyes, much too large for the small face that housed them. He appeared to stare right through things and people. Father Dominic sprinted everywhere he went, as if life had left him behind and he was desperately trying to catch up.

One day he explained his insatiable appetite for rushing through time. "I was caught in France as a young man during the World War II German occupation," he began. "…