Things to Run Away From Really Fast

I'm walking around a version of the grocery store in Ixburg which I've seen before. Produce by the entrance to the southwest, ceiling-high shelving running east-west all through the store like a warehouse. I'm looking for strawberries.

Still in the grocery store, I'm now a different character. I'm an employee and also some kid genius version of myself from an alternate timeline that I can't recall the gender of. I help someone with a difficult problem. They try to complement me, but I tell them, "Hey, I just work in a grocery store."

I don't and never have in real life.

Now I'm in a strange mix of Halifax and Quickton, where the rivers cross through the city, forcing roads to follow bridges and riverbanks. It's topsy-turvy, and hilly, and it's a bright, sunny day.

Various members of my family, including aunts and uncles, are waiting on the patio section of a restaurant, looking at menus and hoping someone will get around to serving us eventually. I'm looking at the menu, unable to find anything that's vegetarian, but the menu itself is really hard to decipher. A waitress shows up to say we're supposed to be ordering right now, but they're really busy, so is it all right if we just wait a bit?

My mom, another woman (possibly Sandra, my mom's friend), and myself go to check out another restaurant. When we get there, we notice that our other group hasn't been served yet, either. It's a lose/lose situation, I guess.

Sandra is driving. We cross a bridge and are headed downward on a slight slope when, from the passenger seat, I notice a truck heading toward us has suddenly flipped into the air without warning. "Whoa." is the collective consensus. Sandra hasn't slowed down and I call her on it. The truck is still flipping, and it's starting to roll into our lane. As we get closer, the truck flips up into the air again, and we zoom safely underneath.



"Nice timing!" I say to Sandra.

I'm still in the Halifax/Quickton hybrid, zooming across the city at a bird's eye view. I think about karate classes once a week, and the fact that I keep moving from city to city, changing up disciplines and instructors. I'm a martial artist, I think to myself, I need to take my training into my own hands. A flash of me running down a dirt trail.

City-Fusions. Scare Factor: 1. Reaction: I think my subconscious is trying to tell me something.