Marie was a pretty, luscious auburn curls and fair skin. A little older and a lot wiser than when she first set foot in the apothecary shoppe, her emerald eyes no longer sparkled with mystery and wonder. The Voodoo woman in New Orleans had only confused her more; as small frustrated wrinkles teased her brow she made her next trip through time in search for her true love. She would have like to stay to try and ask the woman more questions when the moon was right, but she must keep moving lest the old, wizened witch find her and cage her or worse.
Her latest journey through the canvas of time crashed landed her in the kitchen of a sushi restaurant (circa 2000 New York City) with such force that she lost conscience. The immaculately dressed workers thought she had been attacked. Once she convinced them not to call the police they insisted that she sit and have a meal on the house. The restaurant workers were much nicer than anyone she had encountered on her last trip to New York. Despite the awkward landing, this trip was looking up. Maybe her White King made his home in the city that never sleeps. Maybe this was the end of the journey to finding him again. Maybe they would be able to settle down without fear, finally.
As Marie waited in the dining room for her complimentary meal, her hopeful thoughts turned to a pounding headache. In the center of the dining area, a large rock fountain dominated the room. The water noisily tumbling and splashing over every rock down to the pool at the bottom; split, splot, spat, cludink, cludunk. As if that wasn’t bad enough, the dining room décor consisted of wispy, swirled clouds painted on the wall with hypnotic Buddha art above every booth. The room started to spin as pounding in Marie’s head became louder like temple drums. Clouds fused together on the wall as the Buddhas began to laugh, “Hahahahaha.” The waiter brought out Marie’s raw fish just as she could take no more. One smell of the wasabi and she passed out.