The Difference Between You And Me {Petekey}

Chapter four

Mikey suddenly reappeared in a street somewhere completely different from his own home. He took a look around himself, seeing some shops, some houses... and a bus, five metres ahead of him, coming right at him.

It was then that he felt the hands of somebody pulling him out of the way and onto the sidewalk. He watched the bus go along on its way, the driver shouting something unintelligible at him. He heard somebody laugh in relief beside him, and turned in the direction of the noise.

It was a woman, presumably the woman who had saved him just moments before, as she was still holding onto him, almost as if she were afraid he would run off into the streets again. Her hair was long and dark, and she was wearing a thick shirt that felt rather itchy. "I know the war is bad, but 'ya don't gotta kill yourself over it!"

She thought that he was trying to commit suicide. It was as good of an excuse as any as to why he was in the street all of a sudden, so he took it and nodded, not in agreement, but rather to show that he was processing her words. After all, he had just attempted suicide.

"What's your name, good sir?" She asked him. She spoke quietly and softly in her American accent. Mikey always loved the way people spoke when he travelled to old America.

He didn't answer her question. "Well, my name's Lindsey. I'm the mayor's daughter? Are you from around here?"

"Miachel. I-I've never been here before in my life," he answered. He realized he needed to get away from her as soon as possible so he could travel back home. It was a bad idea to go here in the first place. He could lose his job.

"Well then, I'll take you home with me, get you something to eat..." she suggested, and though it was exactly what Mikey needed not to happen, he knew he couldn't reject her. "Where are you from?" She asked as she guided him down the street.

"Far away. Far, far away," Mikey told her. He usually wasn't so vague when people from the past asked him about things, but it fit the character he was putting on. Usually, being specific made the details matter less. If he was secretive, his being there was more important to these people and he could screw things up continuity-wise, so he usually made up details like where he was from when people asked.

The woman, Lindsey, nodded like she understood. "You came here on one of those boats over there?" She asked, and Mikey nodded, going along with the backstory she was giving him. He didn't know what boats she was referring to, but it was better than making up an excuse of his own. "Do you speak English where you're from?" She asked additionally, and Mikey didn't know how to answer. Presumably he should say no, because if he said yes, she would assume he was from Great Britain, which he didn't think would make sense. Would it?

"No," he ended up muttering, hoping it was the right answer. Luckily, she nodded.

"I thought so," she told him. Then she stopped walking, the unexpectedness making Mikey trip a little. "Here we are," she said, gesturing to the house in front of them. It was definitely more put together than the rest of the buildings surrounding them, which wasn't saying much. It was also a lot bigger than most of the houses Mikey had seen since arriving, from what he knew about the houses built around this time it was probably built to house upwards of ten people.

Lindsey opened the door for him, and Mikey stepped inside. He could tell that they were definitely an upper class family judging from the decor, nevermind the fact that Lindsey told him she was the mayor's daughter.

"We house refugees like you sometimes," she explained. "I'll show you your room. You can stay here as long as you like." Which hopefully wouldn't be long, Mikey thought. If she left him alone finally, maybe he could just disappear back into his own time and she wouldn't have to worry about him.