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her up, or should I look her up. Maybe, on second thought, I will look her up some other time.
    What, no way, what the… that can’t be right. On the desk lay one of those calendars that took up most of where you worked. According to the calendar it was February 2, Friday 1990. 1990, only it is 1975. Nicks said five to seven days, not fifteen years; NOT FIFTEEN YEARS… WHAT THE HELL. That can’t be right. It’s not right, stomping my foot against the floor.
    I am tired and the sun is coming up. Noticing the room was filling up with the light of day, I will have to figure all this out tomorrow.
    I ran up to my hiding place. Pulling up the ladder, I slunk off to my corner curled up in my blankets and pillow. Then I did what any, strong, self reliant, independent, woman or man would do in my situation. I quietly cried myself to sleep.
    I sleep like the dead. It was kind of strange; I didn’t move an inch and had no dreams whatsoever. I simply fell asleep, then woke up with no real idea how much time had passed away. The attic was dark but not dark enough for night time.
    I move into the middle of the attic and listen to make sure no one is home. After listening for a little while, I was sure the house was empty. Plus I saw a notice on the calendar that it was marked for a weekend trip to Grand Junction, to visit mom for the weekend.
    So I kicked the ladder down and went down to the second level again, but this time, when I stood in the hallway, I could see all the sun streaming in from the adjacent rooms except for one. I had closed the blinds to the boy’s room with all the strange toys. I am glad that I did; I walked back into the room and looked at the strange clock. It stated it was 4:15 PM, so much for sleeping all day long.
    I am thinking my first idea of burying myself would have sucked. I would have been stuck underground for hours wide awake. Well I am not a person to sit around and feel sorry for myself. I need to go forth, though I have no idea how. Sometimes you have to start with what you know. And what I know right this moment wouldn’t get you a cup of coffee, but I am dirty and dressed in what’s left of a fifteen year old cotton white dress that isn’t white anymore.
    Down the hallway there are three rooms. The first room is the boys’ room; the second across from his room is an office; the third is full of exercise equipment, with filing cabinets and random stuff everywhere, and one more door at the end of the hall, a beautiful baby blue bathroom, which happened to have an outside window.
    I could see the light shining out of the bathroom. The sunlight was not as blinding as I believed it would be. I found these really groovy sunglasses in the boy’s room called Oakley's, they are really strange looking. They’re just one big lens, and they are really dark. With them on I am enjoying life just a little bit better.
    Now here comes the hard part; do I really burst into flames just because a little sunlight hits me? Well there's one way to find out for sure, and find out I must, or I have to wait till tonight to get a bath.
    I walked up to the edge of the doorway. Why could I have not covered all the windows up last night? In my defense the whole 15 years missing had me a little preoccupied.  Enough stalling, I stuck my hand out into the light. My whole body tensed as I got ready for the pain.
    Then nothing happened. I could feel the heat of the sun, but my hand was not on fire; whoopee, so I stepped out of the hall into the bathroom. It was annoyingly bright and now that the sunlight from the window was on my entire body, it was quite bothersome.
    I really couldn't complain because I wasn't bursting into flames. So, with that, I covered the window with the boy’s comforter with the strange Star Wars symbols on it, and now it was very groovy in the bathroom. So I started the water. I ripped off the soiled cotton dress and did what I've been dreaming about since I woke up in that grave. I had a long