A new name comes to you.

The name Dana O’Malley blurts out as if it was something you ate. The instant you say it all the documents are filled out with your name and by the look of it you are 5’ 3”, 97 lbs, and 22 years old, your birthday is now apparently June third. “Hi my name is Dana, nice to meet you.” You say to the sexy new you in the reflection on the television. The odd thing with that is you now clearly detect a hint of an Irish accent. Not only that you seem to have more cute little freckles than you did a second ago. “Two hours Dana, better get your little ass moving.” A quick shower and a bit of makeup later, noting that the red seems to be returning to your hair, you then turn your attention to the suitcases.

Fairly quickly you get dressed, selecting the neon green no show socks, matching color boy short panties, and tiny bikini top. Over this you go with the white halter top, black yoga pants, and cheerleader style white tennis shoes. A cute but simple white purse with a makeup kit, all the documents, keys, and the loaded 380 with 2 ex mags are next. You then spend the next hour locating and packing everything into the cute 4 door Fiat. You find no sign of the Harley but as you own an apartment you figure it must be there.

Finally ready you climb in and fire it to life. The radio bursts on with a teenage girl blaring about partying all night. Then you reach into the console and pull out a sucker, unwrap it, and plop it in your mouth. “Yum. Wait how did I know that was there?” Sitting at the end of the ramp leading out of the parking garage you realize you have no idea where you should go. Your new home seems the obvious answer, then again you still have that key marked platform D, plus you could have sworn you were in New York. Then again you also had those weird memories of being from some east block country, yet your license and accent put you as Irish, at least to some extent. “Fuck this is all so weird.” Fishing around for the platform D key you don’t find it. “Fuck I better go back for it.” You throw the car in reverse, look in the mirror, and... “What the fuck.” The entire building simply isn’t there. Behind you is a gas station on a lonely road leading back to some unknown highway. “Ok fuck that I’m out of here.” You throw it in drive and race onto the highway.

Pulling up your navigation on the car screen you type in the address of your apartment. 20 minutes away. You begin your drive through what you soon realize is upper middle Illinois. Sure enough 20 minutes later you pull into your little garage, slide the car in beside your cool black bob tail Harley, and turn off the car. Climbing out you go for the bags. Nope not there. “What?” But something tells you it is inside. You walk up the stairs, slide the key in the lock, heart racing.