The explosion of color, after that grey place, was disorienting. I immediately covered myself, realizing that my curiosity on the character window earlier is biting me in the backside now. The room felt dry, and cold.

My mind told me that I was a 39 year old man, but my hands covering my body were bereft of the callouses I had earned over those years. The loose skin, and wrinkles all humans earn over time were gone. My sun-kissed tan skin was now this pale creme that could only belong to someone of Welsh decent. My salt and pepper hair was now this pitch black that I remember mine being in my youth, and it was about the same length it had been in high school; just past my shoulders, and completely unstyled, still wet from the shower I had stepped out of.

After a brief moment of silence, the woman's voice telling someone to get me a blanket cut through the encroaching quiet, as whatever machine surrounding me, was getting quieter.

A white blanket, feeling of fleece, was handed to me, and I quickly put it around myself, holding it closed with my hands on the inside. One at my neck, mostly to keep the blanket over my shoulders, and the other right at waist height. A heavyset woman stepped onto the tiny platform and gestured for me to step off in front of her.

"Someone call the Dean, and get the cops here. We don't want to be accused of kidnapping." The woman leading me called out. I relaxed a little bit, and realized I relaxed too much.

"Um.. Sorry." I said aloud.

"Oh sweetie, don't worry, we'll get you back where you belong as quick as we can." The big woman said, obviously trying not to scare me.

"Umm... Not that," I looked down, and behind me, at the trail of yellow liquid I had left behind. When she saw it, she yelled out.

"Jennifer! Sample this, then clean it up!" She then got quieter. "I am really sorry this is happening to you, lets get you cleaned up, and maybe some clothes, yes?"

I nodded, "So; where am I?"

"You are standing on the grounds of Missouri State University." She said that as though that should tell me everything.

"Okay, so Missouri, how far are we from Branson?"

Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

"Oh, about an hour, is that where you are from?" She asked as she lead me into the woman's bathroom just outside of the room I arrived in.

"No, just thought it would be a decent gauge." And whether or not that tourist trap existed here, but wasn't going to tell her I knew I wasn't from here.

I walked into the stall, closed the door, and cleaned myself up the best I could with what was available, which was just toilet paper so thin your fingers would poke through.

"Well, Branson is about an hour drive south, but as far as I know, there isn't much there. We pass through on our way to Hardy, Arkansas all the time. The theaters in Hardy are amazing."

Well that's a big difference, Branson is where the theaters are at, where I am from.

"So I am from about an hour, to an hour and a half east of here." I tell her, using the method of time to measure distance that she had. I wrap myself in the blanket once more, and open the door of the stall. Another woman in a lab coat walks in, and hands me a maroon tote bag. I look inside curiously, and see a maroon and grey track suit, yoga shorts, and a sports bra.

"I didn't know your size, so I guessed on the tracksuit, but the shorts and bra are smalls."

I step back into the stall, hang the bag on the door, and quickly figure out which way is forward on the clothes. I may not have ever put on a bra before, but I was married in my twenties, I watched my wife enough to know some things.

It fit kind of snug, more than what I would have wanted, but I was now clothed. I stepped back out, with the blanket now in the bag.

"The band seems a bit tight, but I think I can manage." Is say to the two women.

"Mind if I check it? I work at Frederick's of Hollywood at the mall." I nod my permission to the new girl, and she approaches, puts two fingers under the strap, and nods. "That's just how this style fits. You'll get used to it." I doubt that. In four days, I am leaving. "By the way, I am Alicia, and I doubt Beverly here introduced herself."

"Jesse. But call me Jess." I reply back. I walk over to the sink, catch a glimpse of my new face, and ice blue eyes, in the mirror, then wash my hands out of habit, and motion to my, obvious, escorts to lead me to the next destination.

They lead me down a set of stairs, then up another, on the other side of the landing, then knocked on the door of a room that had Dean of Students painted in maroon on the marbled glass door.

"Enter" I hear a man's voice. My escorts are obviously blocking me from going anywhere else but in this room. A balding man with red hair, and the older woman who ordered my blanket were sitting inside as I entered. My escorts following me. The man looked me up and down, not quite in a lecherous way, but it didn't make me comfortable.

"If I didn't know better, I would swear you were a member of a tour group who had lost their way. How old are you miss?" The words left me before I had even thought about it; but I knew this would have happened at some point.

"Thirty nine." The quick looks from the four others in the room made me realize that this was the best way to let the cat out of the bag, so I continued. "And I am not from this world. One like it, but not this one."