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Slowly Abigail walked through the village, taking in every detail. There were some minor differences, but it was similar enough that she believed she was dreaming, because no other explanation made sense. People she knew, and people she didn’t, walked past her, not noticing the confusion she felt. She was grateful that they didn’t. Part of her wanted a real explanation, as everything seemed too real for her to be really be dreaming, but she didn’t think anyone would understand why she needed an explanation. They couldn’t know that their lives were documented in a TV show. As far as she knew everyone she had recognised were played by actors.

Biting hard on her lip, to stop herself from crying or screaming, Abigail headed towards the coffee shop. With one hand she took her purse out of her pocket. She had the same amount of money she had when she went to sleep, her debit card and national insurance card were in their normal slots, and holding it was reassuring. It felt real. That didn’t mean that she really had found herself walking through a village she knew only existed in TV land, but it helped to ground her. No matter what there was going to be an explanation.

The coffee shop looked exactly the way it had the last time Abigail had seen it. Still biting her lip she walked toward the counter. Behind the counter were two people she knew from the show and even the grip she had on her purse wasn’t really helping her feel normal. One of the actors had been in a couple of other programs, so there was no way he could be the person she thought of him being. In the show he was Wyatt, owner and manager of the coffee shop, and that was who she had to think of him as, rather than who he was in real life. Their eyes met, he smiled at her, and from somewhere she managed to summon a smile so she could reply.

“Good morning,” Wyatt said, his voice the same as she remembered it being. “What can I get for you today?”

In an attempt to give herself a chance to get used to him being stood right in front of her Abigail glanced at the menu, even though she knew what she wanted. “A raspberry latte, please,” she replied, thankful she managed to speak normally.

“You new here?”

Wyatt turned to make her latte as she tried to find an answer to the question. In the end Abigail nodded and answered truthfully, “I got here today.” What she didn’t say was, ‘And I have no idea how it happened.’

“I hope I’ll see you here again if you stick around.” He put the mug on the counter. “That’s £4.50.”

Even though Abigail had her debit card she knew that money was going to be an issue. She passed over a note, thinking about what she could do. There was no guarantee her card was going to work, so she had £20 to see her through and no idea how long she was going to be without a job, although she was still toying with the idea that everything was just a dream. It didn’t feel like a dream, but occasionally her dreams were very realistic.

Once she’d received her change and put it into her purse she went to sit at one of the tables. With one hand on her mug, which was hot and solid, she stared out of the window, thinking about what could have happened to her. The longer she had her hand on the mug the less likely she felt it was that she was dreaming. She didn’t remember ever almost burning her hands in a dream before. Biting hard on her lip again she tapped the table with one of her nails.

Abigail remembered going to bed. It was her first night alone for almost six years, because the snoring was getting too much for her to cope with. To begin with she had been able to sleep through it, but it had been getting louder for years, and ever since she’d started working the early shift she’d found herself unable to ignore the noise. Not having arms around her had made it hard to fall asleep, but once she had she’d slept deeply.

When she woke up everything had seemed normal. The room had been identical to the one she’d gone to sleep in. Maybe if she’d had more things, books and ornaments, scattered around her room she would have realised sooner that something had changed. Instead she set about going through her normal morning routine. Her flannel was on the side of the sink, her toothbrush and toothpaste were in the mug on the shelf underneath the mirror, and her towel was on the rail, so she still didn’t realise that she wasn’t at home.

It hadn’t been until Abigail walked out of the bedroom, thankfully fully dressed, to noises she hadn’t expected and a couple of doors she knew had never been close to her bedroom door. She couldn’t hear any snoring, but it did sound like someone might be having sex in the next room, so she did the only thing she could think of doing. Other than screaming that is. With one hand on the wall, in a failed attempt to convince herself that she was dreaming, she walked to the end of the landing, half hoping she might walk into someone. She had no idea how she was going to explain what had happened to her, because she didn’t have any idea what had actually happened, but talking to someone seemed like the only way she could make sense of it all.

“Are you okay?” a voice asked, dragging Abigail out of her thoughts.

Summoning another fake smile she looked at where the voice was and nodded. “I’m fine,” she replied, trying not to stare too hard at the girl in front of her, another person she recognised and wished she didn’t.

“You don’t look fine.”

“It’s been a strange morning.”

Their eyes met, just for a moment, but it was a moment too long. “What do you mean strange?” the girl, Mina on the show, asked, looking as though she had some idea of what was going through her head.

She shook her head. “I don’t know how to explain it and you wouldn’t believe me if I did.”

“You’d be surprised what I’d believe.”

It was obvious that Mina wasn’t going to leave her alone until Abigail had explained, so she made the only choice she really could make. “This is a TV show,” she said, keeping her voice quiet so only the girl could hear. “Last night I watched an episode and now I’m here, and I don’t know why or how it happened.”

Mina nodded, looking unsurprised. “Let me get a drink and then we’ll talk.”

Mirrored from K. A. Jones Writing.

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Date: 2012-08-06 10:15 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] ysabetwordsmith.livejournal.com
>>In an attempt to give herself a chance to get used to him being stood right in front of her<<

Either delete "stood" or delete "being" and change to "standing" above.

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