Where in the World Am I and How Did I Get Here?

A very short piece of fiction.

For a moment, Leo did not move. He couldn't. Something really extraordinary had just happened to him One moment, he was sitting at a table at Starbucks drinking his customary coffee, munching on his scone and reading the New York Times. The next moment, he found himself sitting at what appeared to be a bus stop. The people around him were speaking English... but not American English and they dressed a bit differently then the folks did in Houston. This street was definitely not in Houston or Texas or even the United States.

He tried to gather his thoughts and try to make some sense of this. "They have an English accent," he thought to himself. "England. So maybe I am in England."He had seen a street like this once. Leo searched his memory. Had it been in a movie maybe? A movie...? "Oh yes. Now I remember. It was in Love, Actually," he recalled, "in the scene in which the Prime Minister is going door to door to try to find out where the gir with whoml he has fallen in love lives." So it was England.

He had seen a street like this once. Leo searched his memory. Had it been in a movie maybe? A movie...? "Oh yes. Now I remember. It was in Love, Actually," he recalled, "in the scene in which the Prime Minister is going door to door to try to find out where the girl he has fallen in love with lives." So it was England.

He stood up and shivered a little. There was a slight chill in the air. He looked to his left and across the street and to the right. All the houses were scrunched together, one next to the other as far as the eye could see. Row houses. He had see houses like that in Boston... but this definitely wasn't Boston. No one here had that signature "Baaston" accent. So where the hell was he? Was this really a street somewhere in England?

The people around him were moving towards the curb as a bus approached from the left. It was one of those double-decker buses he had seen in movies and photos. Definitely British. So, one question answered. He stood back from the crowd as everyone else was boarding the bus. Better he should stay right here and figure out what the hell was happening to him.

Leo was the sort of fellow who always had to be in control of his life and this was very disconcerting to him to not even know where he was and what he was doing here.

Suddenly, he became aware that he was holding something in his right hand. He looked and discovered that he was holding a photograph of a row house just like the ones on this particular street. It was a three story affair, dark brown brick and definitely very old. He studied the house trying to recall if he had ever been there before? No, not that he could recall.

He decided to sit back down on the bench again. Seemed to be as good a thing to do as anything else under the circumstances. "This is really weird. I have absolutely no idea of what is happening to me."

Suddenly, he became very concerned. "I hope I remembered to bring my passport!..." He caught himself immediately after thinking that. "I cannot believe that I just thought that. Here I am... somewhere... in a totally surreal situation, and I am starting to stress out over whether or not I brought my passport!... For God's sake, Leo, get a grip on yourself."

Once more composed, he reassessed his situation. "This is totally ridiculous. Totally. I hope that nobody put something weird into my coffee, because this is getting completely out of hand."

So he just sat there for a bit, waiting to see if this street and the houses and the people all around him would just go away... and he would once again find himself reading his paper and drinking his coffee. But nothing changed.

Leo stood up again and surveyed the street more closely. He scanned the houses on the other side of the street to see if any one of them seemed to be familiar. Starting with the houses on the left, his eyes moved from one house to the next. When he reached the house which was directly across the street, he stopped. Leo tilted his head a bit to the right, as was his habit. He glanced down at the photo and back at the house. It was the same house. It was the same house!

"Go knock on the door and see what happens. Can't be any stranger that what has happened so far."

After checking to see that no traffic was coming from either way, he crossed the street. He walked up the six steps to the landing at the top and rang the doorbell. He heard footfalls and then the lock being disengaged. The door opened. An old lady with gray hair and a pleasant demeanor stood there, dressed in a pale blue house dress with small white flowers. She momentarily studied him and then said, "Good afternoon. How can I help you?"

"I am sorry to disturb you. I am not exactly certain where I am." He paused, feeling very awkward, but then continued. "You see, I found myself on this street... and I am not exactly sure how I got here and I was holding a photo of your house...." Another pause. " I know this probably sounds crazy. The thing is I am trying to figure out what is going on and the only clue I have is that I have a photo of your house. I thought maybe you might know something that could help me." He stopped. She must think he is a lunatic... a total crazy, and in a moment she was going to call the police.

"I see," she said, thoughtfully. After a brief pause, during which she seemed to have made a decision about him, she continued, "Well, you do seem to have a problem, don't you. My name is Emily Beasley. And your name is....?"

"Leo. Leo Walters, Mrs. Beasley," he answered.

"Well, Leo Walters, why don't you come in and we'll have some tea. Perhaps between the two of us, we can begin to sort this thing out."