Love letter to the past

Chapter 1

-James Harris-

Tuesday, 12.6.2018

Today was one of the busiest day in office. There were twelve documents handed to me the moment I sat in my cubicle. Some guy turned on the radio just in time for the weather report. 'A whirlwind is predicted to pass this town in the afternoon, stay safe folks.' Everyone was burying their heads in the pile of work, no one was paying attention, the few ones that did responded with a sneer. It's not hard to understand why, that was their third prediction this week. After that, the sound of typewriters filled the office.

Turned out the weather reporters were right. During lunch, trees began to sway frantically, swarm of birds flew in all directions. I could feel the vibration of the glass windows as if there were shattering any moment.

The same guy turned on the radio again. A male reporter was giving an account of a house which was struck by a tree in the midst of the strong wind.

I need to contact my family. I need to check on them.

There was a phone booth right below our company. I acknowledged my colleague before sprinting towards the booth. Outside the building, the strong wind collided with my face and I backed up several steps. An umbrella flew right passed me, following by some newspapers. It was a chaotic scene.

The phone booth isn't occupied, I sighed in relief. The red door swung open as soon as I pulled the handle. I paused for a second to catch my breath from the running.

My fingers raced to dial a series of familiar numbers.

Weird, the monotonous tune I was expecting to hear before somebody answers the phone was absent.

Maybe it's out of order, they should've put a sign on this. I hung the phone back in disappointment.

Without warning, the air in the phone booth warmed up. I pushed the door lightly to exit as I began to sweat vigorously. Perhaps the air ventilation was poor in here, I thought. My hand flinched away in pain from what felt like hundred degrees Celsius as I came in contact with the door handle.

Is this thing made of larva?

I viewed through the glass panels at the side of the phone booths, attempting to call for help from the pedestrians, but steam blurred my sight. White smoke began to trail into the enclosed space out of nowhere.

What is happening?

Sweat were dripping from my head like a leaking tap water. The oxygen level was running low.

With an arm covering my eyes, I backed up a few steps before charging full speed at the door.

It opened.

I moved my arm away from my eyes, but it was too late. My body had slammed into a pedestrian. I  immediately stood up to apologize, but that was when I realized something.

Where am I?

The building that was supposed to be my office was now a bistro. The street that was once familiar had changed drastically. Even the paint of the phone booth was in a different colour, I found myself standing outside a black phone booth.

A petite hand was placed on my shoulder, a tight slap on my face was what followed.