[ A sinking feeling settles in his gut. He can't imagine the explanation for what's going on here with their mismatched memories, potentially mismatched times, whatever it is, could be anything good. ]

Yes. We got out. I was going home to see my son [ his son whose name is still just beyond his memory's grasp ] and then I was here.

[ Or, then he was a squid. Apparently. Reality is running with a very loose set of rules these days. ]

At least, that's what I remember. [ That much had to be real, right? His grip tightens instinctively on the iron in his hands as his mind wanders. After a moment, he asks,] That man we found, what do you suppose his reality was all those years he sat down there?

[ Mostly bones, rotted away, yet still alive. Was that poor soul trapped in a world like this for all that time, too? Perhaps that would be merciful, considering the alternative. ]