Maple Tree

There was a maple tree on the corner of Ryan's yard as he was growing up. When he was seven, the city ordered it cut down because the branches were interfering with the electrical lines. Ryan cried a lot and convinced his mom to fight. It took many hours of sitting in on city council meetings and gathering signatures for a petition, but eventually the power company relented. The tree was saved.

Now the trees are the only things left standing in their old neighborhood. Once the plant revolution started, Ryan and his mom were spared, but the houses weren't.

Paradoxically

The time machine had come with many instructions, disclaimers, and warnings. Multiple signatures were required, acknowledging no one could be held liable for what was about to happen other than himself. His lawyers advised against proceeding. His priest refused to absolve him of his sins, both past and future. His children cried.

He steps inside.

He didn't bother explaining that everything they feared had already happened. He died before he was born. The reality they knew and cherished was not the reality they had known and cherished. They paradoxically clung to an existence that never was and always would be.