There are fuzzy borders at the edge of some stories where it's not entirely clear if they represent a merely possible world or our actual one. Often it depends on when--or even if--we experience them.
They were seeing something they weren't sure they were supposed to be seeing.
The scenes bore familiarity, but they weren't quite the Present.
Like voyeurs they gazed through the stuttering viewports on what their slice of the world would be.
The pair sprawled dizzy from the sun. A breeze rolled across the expanse before them, more sloshing the air than blowing it.
Happy artifacts of industry dotted the horizon. "To each, his option...Let's hike down before dark."
Smog coated another Sabbath sunset. He stirred their pot of pulpy tea and waited for the others.