Encore

3 Time-travelling

The loud music blaring in the floor below wakes me up.

The sun is brighter than usual, which I find so annoying. My eyes are struggling to open but I'm blinded by the rays of light seeping- no, beaming through the window. The open window. No curtains. Didn't I already go through this? All this morning struggles? I swear I did. 

My right hand found its way for the table beside my bed. Wha-- what? Where'd the table go? I prop myself up right away on my hands, slightly panicking. Wait, what's this? What's that? Where am I? 

I look around to see a room about half the size of mine with furnitures closely arranged. I don't even have room to breath in this space! Beside the bed are stacks of magazines - music magazines. Opposite the bed is a wardrobe and across it is a study table. On the table is a typewriter - probably a decoration - and an old-style telephone. And of course, I don't see my phone anywhere in sight.

"It must be here, it must be here...somewhere." I tell myself.

Okay so I know I've already waken up today. I remember that...and then Diana said something about my job and...and I went to office! Yes, I did. I remember! The rock issue! Yes...then I did some research in the car...oh, right. Betty Hood creeped up and made me crave for coffee. So I got one and...and...I drove away. 

I feel a stinging sensation from my thighs, as if I had hurt them earlier. I look down to see my pants stained with some kind of liquid. I bend closer to sniff and figure out what the stain is and...of course it's coffee. I spilt coffee on my legs and I crashed! Yeah...I crashed. 

Wait so why am I here? Other than the burn, I don't feel anything. No cuts, bruises whatsoever.

You know what, maybe someone saved me. Maybe the airbag hit me too hard that I passed out. So they took me here, so I can rest. Such a sweetheart, I should go find them. I'll tell them that I'm fine and I have a deadline to meet.

I walk out of the room and immediately meet with a flight of stairs. This really is a small house, isn't it? So I walk down cautiously while correcting my outfit. The first thing I see downstairs is a room with the door open and it seems to be the source of the loud music. As far as this house goes, this is the only room downstairs. Across it is a kitchen and beside that is the TV area. Man, they need to refurbish this place!

"Excuse me? Am I interrupting?" I say before knocking on the door. Maybe it should've been the other way round.

The person I'm talking to is a fat lady sitting on a single couch, watching the TV. Is that even a TV? It's too small. And the quality is, wow, incredibly unsatisfying. Even the colour is off. How could she watch that? 

The lady gives me an indifferent look and continues to watch what seems like a concert show thing that's playing an incredibly familiar tune. Something I heard when I woke up. I continue, "I'd like to say thanks for saving me from that crash. I don't really know what's going on now, and I hope you could tell me what happened to my belongings. Including my car, of course."

She gives me a weird look and continues to watch the damn TV. Is she dea-- stupid?! What is going on? I rage, "Are you listening? I said THANKS. Now can I know where my stuff are?"

"Where else? They're upstairs, in your room." The lady says, not even looking at me.

"What do you mean it's in my room? That's not my room."

"Yeah it is, you rented it. And speaking of which, your pay is late this month. Writing doesn't pay well, huh?"

"Well, hello, it's two thousand and thirteen. Music writers like me are paid a shit load of money. In fact, I can give you the money now." I proceed to take out the purse out of my pocket. I grab a handful of money and hand it to her.