Taking a deep breath, you say, "I'd like a cheeseburger, please," while looking at the wall to your right, completely ignoring the cashier. You can feel discomfort radiating from their hand as you pay for your meal. Still, you refuse to look at them, instead opting to gaze upon the cream wall.
A few minutes later, you receive your food. You rush to the farthest corner of the restaurant, willing yourself to be as small as possible. You consider taking a table or two and building a protective fort around you. But that would be silly.
You may not have found perfection, but at least you got a burger. You kept your eye on the prize, and nothing was able to tear you away from your goal. Not love, not gastric distress, not even nature itself could best you.
Yet you feel a hole inside you. Something feels incomplete. You've had a taste of human interaction, and it wasn't as bad as you thought it was. In fact, you crave more. But that involves communicating with other humans. Forget that.
You finish off the last bite of your burger, but you can't take your mind off of what had happened today. You want to know what could've happened. You need to know.
But you can't relive a day. It's impossible...
>> ...unless you have magic.