The following is an excerpt from Until We Meet Again.  I hope you enjoy. . . . always.

She needed to pull herself out of the twenty-first century and set her thoughts on 1888. If there was one thing she had learned from her years of traveling through time, it was the value of living in the moment, regardless of where or when she was. It wasn’t productive to focus on the vastness of the past, or even on the possibilities of the future. It was best to focus only on the immediacy of the moment before her.
She picked up her satchel and headed for door number three; the one assigned to her. She placed her hand on the door knob and took a deep breath. Within a matter of seconds she would travel through time. She opened the door, stepped into the antechamber, and waited for the door to click closed behind her. She took another deep breath as she counted; one-thousand-one, one-thousand-two, one-thousand-three. She opened the front facing door and stepped out onto the sidewalk in front of a secondhand bookstore. The large clock tower decorating the bank building across the street read six o’clock. She didn’t need to ask anyone to know she was standing in downtown Manhattan on Sunday evening, the tenth of June, 1888. All it took was four small steps and one giant leap of faith.