Per the good doctor’s recommendation — no surprise here — she stared at the tv static for what seemed like ages, trying to make sense of the appearing and disappearing shapes. After a while, she heard what was suppose to be the observing doctor snoring behind her. He must have been out for a while, she deduced from the still undrunk milk. And here I am, trying to *remember* so hard.
She turned back to the static and cleared her throat *loudly*. Dr. Baumbeer sat up with a start, mumbling. “S-so, ahem, how’s, er, it going dear? Are — are you remembering anything? Anything at all?”
“No. Thanks. Not yet. I think we should end for the night. I need to get back home to my parents.”
“Oh that’s right. You probably think you’re — WELL, how old do you think you are, Marsha?”
Marsha knew she was a star now. She’d gotten that far. But the overlapping timelines still confused. “15?” she guessed.
“Well then you better run along! Dinner is probably getting cold at your house. I trust you know the way out.”
Marsha knew there was only one entrance to this second floor room. *Oh*, she needs to ask about her uncle, and why this building is the same as the one in NWES. She does.
“Your Uncle Ally or your Uncle Axis?” returned Dr. Baumbeer, attempting a weak joke. “They didn’t get along; that’s actually where the timelines split. For all of us.”
“Axis, I think. I don’t recall an Uncle Ally.”
“Yes, that would explain it,” and he sat back and folded his hands behind his head while gazing blankly upward with his still spectacled eyes. Soon he was snoring again. Marsha “*Pink*” Krakow left him alone now.
—-
“Oh just stop it.”
Sunklands 