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05/11/11(Wed)16:55 No.14892759You've lived in the apartment for almost a year now, and doubt is finally setting in.
It all started when you came home one night, drunk, like usual. You stumbled into your bathroom to take a piss, and after carefully focusing to get it all in the bowl, you noticed that your shower is missing, and in its place is an old claw-foot tub. As you are drunk, you pay little attention to it, and retreat to your couch, where you pass out watching late-night reruns of Jerry Springer.
The next morning, you woke up, with quite the reminder of the past night's drinking, and stumble to the bathroom once more, this time to vomit. Your shower is back, as though it had never been gone.
This wasn't the last time you saw it, either. Things would change; not always the shower, either. Your oven changed from an electric range to an old propane stove once, and just to test it, you cooked dinner over its flame, even though there was no gas line leading to it. By the next day, everything is always back, your TV, your clock, sometimes little things like a pair of pants. Its never the same thing twice in a row, and you've grown accustomed to in it your own way; it unnerves you, but is seemingly harmless, so you accept it.
This morning as you woke up for work, you collected your mail and threw it onto the table, like you do every morning, and sat down with a bowl of half-stale corn flakes. As you thoughtlessly shuffle through the envelopes, one catches your eye. It's addressed to you, but the postmark read 1959, and the edges of the envelope are burned. You open it to find a photograph of another apartment building, standing in the same place as yours, but obviously stood there before yours was built. As you put the envelope down and continue your eating your corn flakes, you notice that it feels rather hot for November. |
