I walk down a road, not remembering how I even got here. Where am I? Everything feels like a dream fading from my memory in the morning after I wake up. Nobody knows me but I’ve been here before. “When have I been here?” How come I know this place so well, yet cannot remember anything else? I walk into the flower district and into an empty flower shop. That’s strange, why is no one else here? As I wander around the shop, I see a business card holder on the cashier’s counter. My name was on the card. Do I own this shop? Who am I? I’ve got to go home and sort this out.
“Taxi!” “3510 Garden Avenue, please.”
As we make our way through the traffic, I realize that this is my parents’ hometown. I haven’t been here in years. Do I move back in with them?
I pay the driver and walk towards the front of the house. As I approach the front door, there’s a key lock box on it. This must be a mistake. Mom and Dad would never sell this house. It’s their first house, the home that holds our childhood memories. I peek into the front porch window and all the furniture is covered in white linen. The unlocked side gate allowed me enter the backyard and take a seat in the patio to gather my thoughts. As I close my eyes, a cool breeze blows across my face.
As soon as the breeze passes, the front door opens and a woman walks through the house into the kitchen. I turn around and peek into the kitchen sliding door. My breathing becomes short and and quick. I’m practically hyperventilating now. That woman is me but in a different dress. What is this?!
Our eyes lock and suddenly, flashbacks of last night flood into my mind. Empty pill bottles cover the carpet of the upstairs bedroom. I’m lying on the floor with a wine glass in my hand, mascara running down my cheeks.
Suddenly, I’m standing in the kitchen looking out at the backyard thinking I saw myself peeking through the sliding door, like an out-of-body experience.