Back Seat Window by FYNIX published on 2019-03-02T16:43:07Z I'm not going to lie. When I put on that Turtleneck Sweater and found myself at a party in 1962, I felt very free. Being displaced in time has a way of freeing you from your worries and inhibitions. So I had a little too much to drink. When I woke up the next day I was in the back seat of a Chevrolet from the late 1950s. Rain was pouring down on the roof and windows. We were parked outside of a diner in the city. I was bleary eyed and sore. Then I noticed there was a girl wrapped in a thick pea coat asleep in the front seat, her red hair curled thickly around her shoulders. When she heard me moving she started coming around. When she sat up and looked at me, we both just started laughing uncontrollably. "Who are you?" she asked when the laughing subsided. "I'm Fynix," I said as I pointed at the diner. "Do you want to get breakfast?" "Yes," she said as she pulled herself together. As I walked into the diner, I noticed a sign that read "Whites Only." For a moment I was taken aback. I'd never seen anything like it before. The girl noticed my reaction and pretended not to notice by looking at her shoes and fixing her hair. "I'm sorry," I said. "I just remembered that I didn't know your name either." "I'm Theresa," she said. "After Mother Theresa?" I asked as I held the door for her. "If that is another name for St. Teresa, then yes. My parents are Catholic." "But not you?" I asked cheerfully, but at this too, she responded by looking at her feet. She seemed distressed, and I felt obtuse. A minute later a waitress led us to a booth and I slid in across from her. For a moment we looked a menus in silence. Then I caught her eye. "I don't think we..." "What?" she interrupted with shock. "We didn't..." "No. Of course not." "Right," I said and looked back at my menu. "It's just that my memory is a little hazy. I don't even remember talking to you last night." "To be honest," she replied, "I don't remember much either. But I would remember THAT." We ordered coffee and pancakes. "Where are you from?" she asked. "Out of town" I replied vaguely. I didn't know where honesty would lead. "You had a full gas tank though." "That's not my car," I shot back. "Well it's not mine," she said. "I don't even know how to drive." Then she reflexively looked down, but she had no shoes to look at. So she spooned some sugar into her coffee and stirred it carelessly. "I'm sorry, but I can't remember how we met last night. You seem upset. Did I..." Then she started crying. This was the music they were playing in the Diner. Genre Electronic