Noah Parker, a 25-year-old stuck in the monotony of his life, stumbles upon an usual time machine. Little does he know, time travel doesn't work as he thinks as it catapults him into an unexpected journey, not only through time but into a life entir...
Exiting the elevator into the lobby of the apartment building felt like stepping into a time machine itself. The '90s charm was palpable, from the grainy carpet underfoot to the friendly nods exchanged. A man at the desk, Phil, greeted me with a warm "Good morning, Katie. Where are you off to?"
His words hung in the air, echoing through the lobby, leaving me bewildered. Why would he ask such a thing? Were people just friendlier in the '90s, or was Katie particularly close with the receptionist? My eyes quickly darted to Phil's name tag, providing the answer I sought. Recovering from my initial shock, I responded with a soft, upbeat, "Good Morning Phil, just heading out to pick up a few things." The voice that escaped my lips, soft and feminine, startled me. Katie's intonation and cadence seemed instinctual.
Phil wished me a good day as I stepped outside, meeting the brisk May air as it gushed onto my legs—an unfamiliar sensation. With each step, I noticed a confidence in my walk, another echo of Katie seeping through into my demeanour.
As I neared a newsstand, a group of men directed unwelcome remarks my way. "Hey, gorgeous, why don't you give us a little smile?" Catcalling was not on my list of expected challenges. Shocked and uneasy, I quickened my pace. "Fuck you too, bitch," they jeered as I escaped their line of sight. A sense of vulnerability lingered.
Arriving at the newsstand, I hoped to seek refuge in the pages of magazines. However, a Vogue cover caught my eye, revealing my new identity as the cover model, adorned with the title "Katie Miller: Top Ten Fashion Finds." The realization hit me like a tidal wave—Katie was not just anyone; she was a respected successful model. The worry of potential recognition gnawed at me, urging me to quickly purchase the magazine, alongside a Cosmopolitan and an Allure.
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Scrambling through my purse for change, I completed the transaction, adding a pair of sunglasses to shield myself from prying eyes. With newfound anonymity, I set course for Tompkins Square Park—a haven from the unexpected challenges of Katie's life. The park held echoes of childhood visits with my grandparents in Manhattan, providing a familiar sanctuary in an unfamiliar existence.
Seated on a park bench I instinctually crossed my legs so as to not reveal myself. I delved into the articles of the Cosmopolitan. The content had titles like, "Relaxing Him (And You) After a First Date," "Unleashing the Sex Goddess in Every Woman," and "The Stay-Skinny Survival Secrets," all topics I was not interested in exploring. Turning to the Allure magazine, a glimmer of hope emerged. Articles on Summer '96 fashion trends and Hollywood makeup techniques captivated my attention.
However, my optimism waned as I stumbled upon an advertisement featuring Katie Miller's face for Calvin Klein. The realization of her success heightened my anxiety about navigating her life.
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I knew I had to find a way back to my mundane existence as Noah Parker, but the path ahead seemed increasingly uncertain.
