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speakeasy

“I’m here!” she shouts into the desert.

“Where is the Eiffel Tower? Where is the… Where am I?”

She no longer feels the cool, metallic transporter device in her hand.  She now feels smothered by the heat of her new environment, Earth.

She is surrounded by things that do not look very French—dusty tumbleweeds, cacti with red blooms, yellow, gritty sand.

She scans the horizon and sees a gas station. She hopes it’s not a mirage.

She finds a man behind the counter whose most memorable quality is an over-sized, white Stetson he wears rakishly tilted to the right. He winks at her and smiles.

She smiles back nervously.

“Hello. I was wondering… where exactly are we?”

“Howdy! You’re smack dab in the heart of Paris, Texas, ma’am,” he drawls.

She sighs… the universe and its sense of humor.

“Someone will miss me and look for me, someday,” she mutters.

She heads out into desert.

She never looked back, she just kept walking.

http://www.yeahwrite.me/speakeasy/fiction-challenge-badges-163/

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