outofspace | this is where I leave you

Three months and change, and there are times — days, moments — where Therese manages not to think about her at all. Never mind the fact that she could give a precise figure to say just how long it's been, or that it was those photographs, the ones taken mostly of Carol, that got her this job in the first place. At least the job keeps her busy, and maybe it isn't exactly glamorous work, but it's still the Times, a foot in the door, so to speak, the best way for someone like her to get started and maybe, just maybe, have a career doing this one day. She'd said once, before Christmas but what feels like half a lifetime ago, that she would want to if she had any talent for it. She thinks now that she does, and that it isn't just a matter of the subject on the other side of the camera making her photographs look good. Even if that's all she gets out of working here, she thinks it will have been worth it. Nothing's been right since just after New Year's, and yet she feels different in ways that aren't all bad. Maybe it took all of that for her to learn something. Use what's right, throw away the rest — finally, for once, she knows what that means and how to act on it. The life she's been building for herself seems to stand as proof of that.

Today's meeting is one like any other, the photo editors all talking amongst themselves and sharing their work while she stands off to the side taking notes. It's something. It's enough, so much so that she hasn't even noticed the door open before her name is being called, the man standing there with an envelope in his hand that's evidently for her. Crossing the smoke-filled room towards the doorway, curious but impassive, she holds out her hand for it —

Only then, in all of an instant, the man is gone, the envelope, too, her hand meeting only air and her expression quickly shifting into one of concern, barely restrained fear. This is impossible. It should be impossible, unless she's utterly lost her mind, something that seems surprisingly likely when she glances over her shoulder and finds that the office and its inhabitants are gone, too, even if that should have spoken for itself with the sudden lack of noise. There are people, but they're outside, the doorway she's in evidently one of some sort of store, and she's at once not dressed for the weather, her arms wrapping around herself in an attempt to combat a chill in the air far stronger than mid-April should call for.

She should say something. She should turn around, walk a few paces, find a way to determine whether or not this is all just some bizarre hallucination. Maybe she'll wake up at any moment, having fallen unconscious on the floor of the Times's office. Instead, at once, seeing a man with a dog passing by, she steps towards him, summoning up a confidence that she doesn't quite feel. "Excuse me," she says, clear, if slightly apologetic. "I think I might be lost. Would you mind giving me directions?" It's a start, at least. Under the circumstances, that's about all she can hope for.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Uh oh. She's got the look. That's never a good sign.

"Hey, yeah. About that..." I smile, and I can't actually hear everything she's said, but I get the gist. The smile I give her is commiserating. Hey, this is weird, right? Ha ha we'll laugh about this later.

"I'll do my best, but you might not want to get your hopes up."

It isn't exactly a reassuring response. Of course, Therese could probably have expected as much, when nothing about the situation in front of her seems to make much sense of any kind, but that hasn't stopped her from looking for logic anyway, or hoping despite what should be obvious that there will be an easy answer to all of this. There's no way she could have gotten lost in her own workplace, unless somehow she did, and then she could just make her way back and let the whole thing become some bizarre joke. It should be simple. That it isn't only leaves her all the more worried.

"Alright," she says slowly, wary, as if he's the one who isn't making any sense here. "And why is that?"

"Wherever you want to be? There's, uh... There's a good chance you can't get there from here," I say, offering her a sympathetic wince.

"Or hey, maybe you're actually from Darrow and I'm making this weird for no reason."

Just stop talking, Barton.

"I — What's Darrow?" Therese asks, her frown deepening, then, "Where am I?" Hearing him name a place she's never heard of before doesn't offer much in the way of reassurance, and while she'd already figured that might be hard to come by, this is still a step further than she could have anticipated. It leaves a sharp edge in her voice that she can't entirely help, not so much directed at the man who's stopped to help her as it is purely the result of fear welling up in her chest. Just seconds ago, she was at work. Whatever is going on here, it must be impossible.

Okay, yeah. That answers my question.

"Yeah, so. Do you know anything about dimensional travel? I'm guessing no. So, this is going to seem really crazy, but wherever you where before? You're not there now. Or... anywhere near where you were. It's... They call it Darrow? And, um... You know how you didn't actually choose to be here? You can't really choose to leave, either."

I grimace apologetically.

"Dimensional travel? No, no, I don't," Therese says with a shake of her head, brow furrowing. It seems as if he's explaining the relevant parts of it, but at the same time, it still makes no sense to her at all. While it seems self-explanatory that she's somewhere she wasn't before, it isn't exactly a reassuring confirmation to be given, nor is what follows. "So what am I supposed to do? That sounds insane."

"Yeah, completely crazy. No arguments there," I agree, because just saying it out loud is enough of a reminder that we should all be screaming in panic in the streets.

"Oh! Information packets. You'll have one, at the train station. It's just a couple blocks. I can show you, if you want." Lucky lets out a yip, and I swear he gives me an annoyed look. "Okay, okay. We can show you."

Though still wary to say the least, Therese works up a thin smile when the dog seems to chime in, as if feeling left out of the conversation. At least the man she's stopped isn't disputing how insane this is. There shouldn't be any sort of comfort in that, but it does make her feel a little less crazy herself, like maybe she hasn't just snapped and imagined all of this, though she doesn't think she's that inventive.

"That would be helpful, thank you," she says, deciding against adding that she doesn't know how she would get there otherwise, without a clue where she is. At least the idea of information is a promising one. "So this... sort of thing, it happens a lot?"

"Yeah. I mean, I don't know how many of us ended up here like this. A hundred? Two hundred? The rest think they belong. It doesn't seem to bother them that we can't leave."

A shudder goes down my spine. It's probably insensitive, but those people really creep me out.

It's more than a little unsettling to consider, but then, that's hardly unexpected in light of everything else. Therese pulls a face at the thought of it, her frown feeling almost unshakably permanent by now, more than she can try to hide. She's not sure it would do any good to bother doing so, anyway, when the situation undeniably calls for it.

"This is crazy," she says, surprised by the decisiveness in her own voice. "This... All of it."

this is where I leave you

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject