Contenteditable for manual test. Scroll it!
Non-scroll action indicator:

I sat on a park bench, eating my lunch. I watched as a little girl rolled by on a shiny metal scooter, watching me out of the corner of her eyes. She zipped around and passed me again. "Hello," I said. She stopped, her eyes wide. "I like your scooter." She looked down at the scooter, her ponytail flopping in her face, then beamed at me. "It's my trusty steed, Sparklehorn!" She pointed to a pink sticker of a unicorn. "He's a unicorn." "Oh, I see." I smiled. "I've never met a unicorn before." The girl frowned and pointed at me. "You're the time trampler." "Time traveller." She shrugged. "My mommy says I can't talk to you. She says you are dangerous." "Ok." I ate a bite of my sandwich. "What does your daddy say?" The girl twirled her hair with a finger and scrunched up her face. "He says you're a commie bastard." "Oh."
The girl furrowed her eyebrows. "What's a 'bastard'?" I chuckled. "Go ask your daddy." The girl laid her scooter down on the sidewalk. "Wanna see me do a cartwheel?" "Sure."
I finished my lunch as the girl cavorted around me on the sidewalk. I opened a small bag of cookies while she practiced handstands. Upside down, she heard the crinkle of the cookie bag and turned her head towards me. "Are those cookies?" She dropped her feet and stood up. "I only like chocolate chip cookies." She paused and tried to look nonchalant. "Do your cookies have any chocolate chips, maybe?" "They do indeed." I showed her the bag. "Would you like one?" "Yes!" she squealed. I held out a cookie and she snatched it gleefully. "Do they have chocolate where you are from?" she asked, spraying crumbs onto the sidewalk. "I'm from here, sweetie." "Noooo," she whined, "do they have chocolate in the future?" I shrugged. "I'm not from the future, I was born in this time. And I only go backwards in time, not forwards." I paused. "I think." The girl thought about this for a moment. "My daddy says you killed people. Is that true?" I nodded. "That's what all the history books say, so... I guess so?" "Why?" "I don't know. I haven't done it yet."
A woman turned the corner on the sidewalk, pushing a stroller. "Lydia," she called. "Uh oh," I said. The little girl's eyes widened and she shoved the rest of her cookie in her mouth and wiped chocolate off her face. "Thank you," she said through a mouthful of cookie. She scooped up her scooter and hurried back to her mother. Her mother scowled in recognition at me and pulled Lydia away down the sidewalk. I sighed and began cleaning up my lunch.
"It must be hard for you," said a voice, behind me. I turned to see an old man with a cane approaching my bench. He gestured with his cane to the space beside me. "May I sit?"
I nodded and tossed my lunch trash into a garbage can next to the bench. "I'm sorry that everyone treats you poorly," the man said. "You walk a hard enough road already." "I guess." I shrugged. "It's weird knowing all these things that I will do. Like seeing my whole life ahead of me." "Not your whole life," said the man. "Just the parts that history remembers." The man fiddled with his cane. "History rarely tells the whole story, in my experience." "I wish I knew why I did, or will do, those things." I hold up my empty hands and examine my palms. "I'm going to stab some poor painter to death in Vienna in 1906? Why would I do that? I've never hurt anyone in my life." The old man nodded. "Sometimes, we have to make a choice between saving a few or saving many. Maybe it was for the greater good." "But what about Dallas in 1963? Everyone knows that I was there." I shook my head. "Why don't I save the President? Why didn't I stop Oswald? I did nothing! Why was I even there?" "Don't be too hard on yourself." The old man clapped a hand on my shoulder. "Especially for something you haven't done yet." "Some people think that I was the one who pulled the trigger," I mumbled. "I get so many emails about grassy knolls." "Maybe you were," said the old man. "Maybe you weren't. Maybe you were supposed to save the President but you simply failed." The old man smiled at me. "You're only human, you know, even if you do travel through time." "I wish that I could just get on with it," I said. "Ever since the discovery of those old photos, I've just drifted along, waiting for time travel." I wrung my hands. "It's been ten years already. Ten years of people avoiding me or worse, actively trying to hurt me. Women won't date me. Nobody will hire me. I am pretty sure that the government has people following me." I pointed to a man in a suit, standing near a tree. The man waved. "See?" "I know it's hard," said the old man. "And, unfortunately, it won't get any easier." "What do you mean?" "Your life. It won't get any easier." The old man sighed. "It's hard to have a wife if you're hopping through time. Hard to have a family, to raise children." "Oh great, thanks for that." I rolled my eyes. "Very inspirational." "It's the truth." The old man shrugged. "You are going to do some very important work. It will have to be enough for you." I looked at the old man. He gave me a small smile. "What if I told you that your sacrifice will save millions of lives?" He gestured towards the people in the park the moms with their strollers, the children, the young men playing frisbee. "All of these people, their parents, grandparents. Their children, too. You will save them, although you will always travel alone, it is true. But with your help, humanity will avoid several major catastrophes." "Is that why I kill that painter?"
"Yes." "What happens if I don't?" The man stared into the distance. He opened his mouth to speak but closed it and stood. "It is better if I show you," he said. "Come with me. It's time to begin your training." My mouth dropped. "Wait a second... this is it? Right now?" The old man nodded. I stood up. We begin walking. "Wait," I said. "How do you know all this stuff?" My eyes widened. "Oh my god..." I lowered my voice. "Are you... me? From the future?" "No," said the old man, shaking his head with a chuckle. "I'm your son."