R e t r o s p e c t • PSYPHY

Chapter 8: P e r p e t u a

"The Doctor will be on vacation next month. We'll call or send you a text with his new availability. In the meantime, he'd like you to gloss over these references. There's even someone who might be of better help, with his personal recommendation attached. Try that one first." she slides the folder through a crevice in the plexiglass. 

I take it, "Thanks." we wave each other away, which is all I need to hang up the day here. 

There weren't any other patients in the waiting area. Maybe I was the last one. As I exited into the lobby, no one was there either. It was creeping into evening, still, was this normal? Every time I questioned that, I thought in the wrong direction. I had this feeling of dread that I knew was therapeutically unrelated. 

I am on a mission. Hard to wrap my head around that, but it's a truth I can't ignore. From what I can gather, time... had been altered. Yes, time was being affected yet again. As with the frozen moments on the train, the incident at the Starbucks did indeed happen. Which could only mean that days have passed, months, maybe even more. To me, it felt like yesterday, possibly hours ago. But that was evidently incorrect. I can pinpoint how long ago it was, but I know my appointments used to be weekly, or surely monthly by now. I watched time go on without me in that coffee shop. I watched it move, even if in isolated areas, it's not continuing for everyone. 

I also know people are aware of it. The displacements, are not exclusive to me. That, and I'm not the only one with a time traveling watch. 

My foot taps against the concrete. I'm waiting for a ride, force of habit. This eerie feeling of so many gaps in explanation, is scaring me. I can't answer the holes of what I've done, on so many levels. The stress is immense, and I can't think of where to begin. I'm late in an involuntary race. I'm at war with a world without allies - and I can't even trust what's behind my eyes. 

The city has never been lonelier. 

"Unless," I whisper looking down to the folder in my lap. 

I almost forgot about this. They were, instructions. I need them, whether they're fitting in my situations or not. Some footing in this fire could be helpful. I open the papers. Amongst the psychiatry recommendations, there was a single business card. It reads as follows:

When you can't keep track, remember, all in due time. - The Horologist. 

Below it is an address. Although I don't recognize the name of the city. Wherever it was, it wasn't any place I had heard of. My face scrunches at my lack of options. I pull out my phone, and order a ride to the location. 

The driver might as well had been nameless. They weren't interested in making conversation, which I appreciate. I'm more curious as to where we're going. I tried to stay quiet too, strongly preferring to take note of my surroundings. An intuition in me wanted to have some sort of barrens for this place. As we drove, I could tell we were headed to the outskirts of Baltimore. Most likely part of the city that was considered a foreign area of the state, perhaps on the border of DC or Virginia. It feels like an hour passes before we even get close. 

I felt myself dozing off, but just as I got comfortable, the car slows down. It stops, and the driver gets out, and opens my door. Weirdly formal, but sure. I thank him, and step out.  Only, when I look ahead, there's a problem. My glance goes from left to right, and I reach for my phone. 

"What the hell?! How did he get the wrong address. He better pick up, they better not have charged me for this." I rant, trying to call back the driver. 

As I wait out front of some upper middle class suburban house, a guy walking his dog crosses the street. He approaches me. 

"Hey, sorry about that." he says.