Rosa Canina had never been particularly extraordinary. 

She had always considered herself just fine in terms of an adult contributing to society. She had excelled in maths and so joined a decent company’s accounting sector. She had a great mind for numbers, enjoyed puzzles and the quiet, comfy things in life. Nothing brought her more joy than curling into the arms of her fiance, Peter, at the end of a day and reading an adventure novel before bed. 

The quiet middle child. No argument with authority. No need to be obvious. Comfortable and secure in her position.

Till the day she wasn’t.

-

“OI!”

Rosa’s eyelids open individually. One at a time. It’s hard. They feel stuck together like the sleep has sealed them shut. She brushes her face and feels the throbbing around the upper part of her head start.

“KAZU!”

She whimpers as a deep, wisened voice shouts and a door slams against a wall and her brain. She pulls herself up, slowly, painfully, because it's not only her head but her feet that hurt too. She pushes aside the oversized leaves and a couple of strange knick knacks to view the street below. 

Outside the sun isn't even up and she sees a white ute filled with styrofoam boxes and two people down below with dark hair and Asian features. One is older, has a white apron and is passing over a yellow envelope while the other is bundled in a down jacket for the autumn cold and is stepping out of the truck to get it. 

“Okane wasurechau yo!” says the older one, softly bopping the younger on the head with the envelope.

“Gomen, Ji-chan” the other man says laughing.

“Oboete kure. Mou!” says the older man with a sigh. The younger one looks abashed.

“Hai. Hai. Wakaru. Wakaru.”

“Lively,” Rosa whispers and then winces, because even her voice was too loud against her own brain. She goes to rub her head and eyes but then freezes because something has just brushed against her toes. 

“AH!”

With a sharp and slightly hung over yelp she finds herself jumping and knocking against the window with a clang to get away.

“Owwww,” she rubs her head with a weighted groan. Raising her head and peeking back out the window both men are looking up at her.
She flushes and ducks.

Great. Perfect. Amazing. Even the strangers next door probably thought she was crazy. 

But next door to...what?

She pauses again and finds she’s in a room she doesn’t recognise. There are plants and canisters filled with herbs and strange knick knacks in the open nooks and crannies.  There’s no TV. Instead there is a vinyl record player by a mustard velvet chair and a bookshelf as tall as the ceiling. To its left, there is an empty wine glass filled with water and - thank god- aspirin. 

Then she hesitates reaching forward as she feels the soft crush of velvet and takes note of the large olive green antique couch she is sitting on.  This is not her apartment and her clothes- they're different too. The soft cotton nightdress she’s wearing feels almost like something the protagonist in some kind of historical novel would wear. But only if she could get the world to stop spinning for one hot damn-  

“Hisssssssssss.”

Her eyes trail toward a very angry black cat sitting puffed up like a storm cloud spitting thunder sitting on the stairwell. 

Everything comes into focus.

“Wait...” 

The phantom feeling of soft fur beneath her fingers as she cried. 

“I...know you.”

“I would hope so, sweet Rosehip,” calls a familiar voice from the hallway.

She looks away from  the cat and there is an older woman in the door frame, teapot in hand, purple hair long, brown eyes soft and-

“You practically treated Orion like a handkerchief the way you were crying last night.”

-very naked. 

“AH!”