"Ma'am, are you okay?"
She opened her eyes and blinked in the bright sun.  "Where am I?"
"You're on Melbourne Street."
"Yes, Ma'am."
The man speaking to her was in a uniform, but not one she recognized. Gingerly she stood up. And she didn't recognize anything about the street around her.  It was cold, and so was she. Wasn't it August? "What time is it?"
"Five o'cock ma'am."
"Um, what day?"
"Thursday." The last day she remembered was a Monday.  This can not be good.
"Would you tell me the date?"
"March 8th"
"March 8th?"
"Yes, March 8th, 2018."
"Yes, Ma'am.  Are you sure you are okay?"
"No, I'm not okay, because the last day I remember is October 6th, 2014."
"2014? Are you sure?"
"Pretty sure."
"Do you know your name?"
"It's Delores.  Delores Simpson."
"Are you sure?"
"Do you think I am making this up?"
"Your driver's license says you name is Susan Andrews.  And it was issued in 2017."
"Are you sure it's mine?"
He held the license up to her face and compared the pictures.  "It sure looks like yours," he said, flipping the license around so that she could see the picture.

Well, hell.

It was her--or at least what she thought she remembered looking like. And where the heck was Melbourne Street?

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