Time is something that is described in many ways: everlasting, duration, minute, second; all fantastic words to describe time. Time never ends. Time is not lost or found. It is just there.

Humans created time as a way of tracking their progress, and yet some refuse to follow it. They ignore time.

How long have I been gone? Time seems to pass, and things happen that I know didn’t happen. Like, me buying this lounge coat. I don’t know where it came from, but I KNOW I didn’t buy it. It just, appeared on me as I woke up.

What time was it? The hours seem to pass by. One day I was in South Carolina, and now I’m in the slums of in Chicago! I remember seeing the clock—5:50 p.m., and when I look at my watch now, it is 6:10 p.m.

How is this possible? I could not have made a jump between states so far away in so few of minutes. It would take hours to do so.

When I walk around Chicago, I see people behind store glass, who wave at me, but I cannot wave back. How do they know me? I’ve never met them before.

Every time I black out.

No, it is every time I black out that I forget.

Forget what happened.

What’s wrong with me?

I can never seem to have time.

And—and—

The watch. The watch helps me. It helps me to remember the time I’ve lost. The black of the hands help. Yes.

I’m at Filene’s Basement, for a reason I don’t know of. I walk through the isles, browsing. Nothing to distract me… to make it happen again—

A little bonnet attracted my interest, and I put it on. It was a fit! A vacant mirror rested against the wall, and I made way to it.

The mirror itself was a bit dusty as I post in it, admiring the bonnet, but there was a crack—

Crack

Time is losing itself again.

I don’t know, I can’t see anything.

I feel angry, seeing everything purple. I can’t stop—stop! stop! stop!

Then pain, oh the pain. My hands hurt. Hurt, make it go away.

I find myself in the parking lot of a hotel. How did I get here? Why was my hand bandaged up?

The time is 10:34 p.m.

Where am I?