The fire in which we burn

Time, time, time,
see what's become of me,
While I looked around,
For my possibilities;
I was so hard to please.

Time again to return to our protagonist. Time at last to see what she and her friend have been doing lo these many months. Or has it been months for them? Has it been minutes or seconds or years? Has it been decades?

Where have they been? What times and places did they see? 

Once they discovered the trick of touching -- when one slips through the manifolds of spacetime, an anchor is always preferable -- they found it much easier to navigate the times in which they found themselves. One would act as lookout while the other stole clothing and food.

They once found themselves in Paris at the turn of the century, fin de siècle. They stole some baguettes and ate them while gazing up at the Eiffel Tower, alternatively wanting and afraid to go near to it. What if they climbed up the tower and then were pulled again through the folds of time? Would they find themselves high up in the air? It had never happened before, but then again, there was always a first time for everything. A first and last time.

They fell asleep in an alleyway and awoke during the Los Angeles riots of 1992. They hid in their alleyway (which had changed from the soft red brick warm from the sun to cold grey bricks spray-painted with phrases like "Fuck da police"). It was the same world, but removed a hundred years and a thousand miles. They waited it out, looking for clothes in a nearby dumpster, and then fell asleep in an abandoned car.

They were like Little Nemo in Slumberland, forever falling asleep to awaken in a new world. They could survive as long as they had each other -- which was, of course, their greatest weakness as well. If one depends on another, you only need to separate them and they fall apart.

I'm getting ahead of myself now. They are due to return at any moment. I've learned over the years to see the signs, to feel the wind (as it were) so I know when they are coming back. When the rubber band of time gives them a little piece of home before it snaps them forward or back again.

But enough about them, right? I bet you are dying to know who I am and how I know all about them.

Well, it's actually a fairly simply answer.

I'm a nobody.