Another Writing Prompt story:
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I knew I only had 10 seconds to change things. I had thought about it, planning out the variables for a long time, when I set the machine to Dallas, 1963. I was certain it would make things better.
With a whirling sensation I appeared in the road, next to where it would happen, I took two steps up to the car.
"Duck Mr. president!"
I saw him turn in his seat. He looked at me and smiled, somehow a knowing look in his eye. "I'm sorry kid" he said, "this has to happen."
The shot went off. He fell into his wife's lap, bloodying her beautiful Chanel suit. The secret service dog piling him. They aimed a tackle at me, but I was gone.
I stood alone in my workshop.
How had he known.
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