“If you could just sign for this,” I said, holding my tablet out. The woman took the stylus and scribbled something that might have been Mary or Math or Marge. It wasn’t important, though. “Thank you, ma’am. Have a nice afternoon.” I handed her the box, wide but flat. She wished me a good afternoon in turn, which was polite. Then she retreated into her house, and I returned to my van.

I set the tablet into its dock on the dash and pulled up my list of deliveries for the day. Only a couple of no answers so far, which was good. Corporate seemed to think it was my fault if customers didn’t answer their doors when I came to drop off a package. One more stop to go before I could clock out. I punched it into the GPS, turned up the radio, and set off down the suburban streets.

The GPS took me to a plain looking little house that had probably been built in the seventies or eighties. I checked the number painted on the curb. 1080. The package was intended for 1080B. The house didn’t look like a duplex, so I was momentarily perplexed, until I pulled up to park at the curb and saw the detached garage with its own apartment behind the house. The owners must have rented it out. Idly, I wondered if someone had to register their sublet apartment. Didn’t matter much for my purposes, though. I put the van in park and hopped out, grabbing a slender box perhaps three feet long. It was heavier than it looked, probably something made of metal. A decorative post, or something. I balanced it against my shoulder as I juggled my tablet out of its dock and set off around the house.

The backyard was surrounded by a little iron fence, and I was temporarily stymied by the little gate, finally managing to hook the lever with the fingers holding the box and pull it out with one toe, keeping the tablet in my other hand. I sidestepped through the gate before the springs could pull it past again.

When I looked up, I was not in the backyard. I’m not sure where I was. It certainly wasn’t the suburbs, though. A massive lawn, carefully maintained, stood before me. Shockingly, the house, which should have been two feet to my right, was gone. Just…more lawn. Little flower beds, all in full bloom, decorated the lawn in an irregular pattern. 

I did what I expect anyone would do upon finding themselves in a place like that. I turned to leave. The little gate was gone. So was the fence. In their place were a tall brick wall with a double-door iron pole gate. Between the bars of the massive gate I could see a twisting lane made of coppery cobbles. Other huge gates just like the one I was peering through led down to the lane every quarter mile or so. It seemed to go on too long, though. I wasn’t sure if there even was a horizon. I had to look away when I started to topple, dizzily.

The cobbled lane gave way outside my gate to a packed sand path lined with stones. It climbed a gentle hill to the doors of a massive building, easily three or four stories high. It reminded me of those old university buildings with all the stonework carved into their faces, except I suspected this one housed comparatively fewer classrooms and comparatively more rooms with leather chairs and cigar humidors and decanters of fine schnapps.

“Can I help, you, sir?” a voice asked, from just over my left shoulder.

I nearly jumped out of my skin. The box fell to the ground with a dull ringing thud. I turned to see who had spoken, and was startled again, and nearly lost the tablet, too. My second thought was that it looked like someone was really enthusiastic about cosplay, but I didn’t recognize the character. He wore a neat three-piece suit, a canvas hat, and spectacles. He carried a cane, but seemed not to be using it. Oh yeah, and he had greenish blue skin and long pointed ears that stretched nearly a foot past the top of his head.

Which meant that they nearly reached my chin. The man couldn’t have been more than four feet tall, not counting his ears. I opened my mouth to answer, and then I noticed another detail. His left hand, gripping the handle of his cane, had just three fingers instead of five. Also, it wasn’t his skin (or face paint). He was covered in fine fur. One of his ears twitched, and I felt a sense not unlike vertigo as I processed that this was not a short man in cosplay, but apparently not a man at all. An alien, or fairy, or--I looked confusedly at the gate, as if it could return me to the yard I had originally come from. It did not. I looked back at the little green man. He tilted his head at me. “Are you alright, sir?” I sat down on the sand. It felt like all of my senses disconnected and had to communicate with my brain through morse code as an emergency measure. I was vaguely aware of a conversation happening near me.

“Sir, are you able to speak? What is your name?” The voice sounded like my brother’s. I should really call and see how he’s doing.

“Daniel.” That was my voice. I don’t remember agreeing to say anything. That’s my name, too. Who’s walking around with my voice and my name?

“Daniel, do you know where you are?” My brother’s voice. How did he get here, anyway? He lives five hundred miles away.

“No.” My impostor again. Maybe if he gets some answers he can share them with me.

“Oh dear. Wait here, I’ll bring the doctor.” 

“Okay,” I answered, belatedly. My senses started to come back, one at a time. Sight was first. I saw that the little green man was moving at a brisk walk, cane tucked under one arm like in some historical drama about Victorian England. He went up towards the house. My sense of up and down, which there’s probably a word for, came back next. I was sitting on something. Touch. Sound followed, and I realized at that point that I probably had just had a conversation with the little green man. The little green man whose voice reminded me of my brother. The thought slipped off my brain as all of the other senses came back in a big wave. I nearly toppled again from dizziness, but I recovered.

The little green man had reached the big house and gone around the far corner, where I could no longer see him. Wobbly, I stood up, brushing sand off of my work khakis. I bent to pick up the box and tablet, and calmly brushed the sand off of them too. And I walked to the gate, which it turned out had a simple latch. I pulled on it, and stepped out onto the cobbled lane.

I was back in suburbia. The little single-story house stood before me. The little detached garage with its little apartment stood behind me. The decorative fence with its treacherous gate rested against one hip.

I went back to my van and I marked 1080B down as “owners not at home”. I decided to take tomorrow off. Maybe I would go see a doctor. I wondered what my out-of-pocket would be on a brain scan.

It took five minutes before my sense of balance felt stable. I pretended to be recording notes on my tablet in case the owners of 1080 were watching. Once I felt clearheaded again, or something approaching it, I put the van in drive and set off back to the warehouse to clock out my shift.

____________

The next morning, I slept in. Fortunately, though corporate were a bunch of clowns, my direct supervisor was pretty forgiving. I told her I needed a day off for personal reasons. She hadn’t asked any follow-up questions, just warning me that if it turned into two it wouldn’t look good on my file. I hoped that wouldn’t be necessary.

I looked up my insurance policy after breakfast. Brain scans were covered, but I hadn’t met my deductible yet, which meant that they were too expensive for anything other than emergencies. I spent two hours debating with myself whether this constituted an emergency, then made an appointment. It was a month out. Plenty of time to change my mind if this turned out to be a contact high from Marge or Malt-o-Meal or whatever her name had been. She hadn’t smelled of anything, but maybe she worked with…I dunno. Mercury, or something. That’s supposed to make people crazy, right? Something about mad as a hatter?

I spent the afternoon doing small things around my apartment. It restored me a bit to have a clean stove, and folded blankets. I even dusted the TV stand and the game consoles arranged on it. I normally only do that when family is coming to town.

I did end up calling my brother. His youngest answered, and I struggled with the toddler-ese long enough to get my brother on the phone. We swapped updates on life, not that there were many. One of his kids was sick. I was on track to get a bonus this holiday. I didn’t mention the mysterious leprechaun with his voice, or the Victorian estate apparently occupying the backyard of some suburbanite. Maybe I should have.

I played some video games to celebrate my cleaning efforts.

Around sunset, I went down to the mail box. I unlocked the door for my apartment and pulled out a stack of what looked to be mostly fliers and mailers. Two envelopes were tucked underneath. One was my internet bill, even though I had signed up for paperless four times. At least I could still pay it online. The other seemed to be handwritten, but by someone with very good handwriting. The envelope was made from a heavy paper with a rough texture. I opened it with one finger, tearing the heavy paper rather artlessly, but who owns a letter opener these days?

Inside was a card on the same paper. A small drawing in what looked like charcoal depicted a flock of birds and a sunset. I turned it over and read.

Daniel,

You left before the doctor could examine you. I hope you remain in good health. Please, allow me to invite you to drinks by way of apology. Porter sometimes forgets that people aren’t used to his appearance.

Cordially,
C.

P.S. It wasn’t a dream. I’d be happy to explain.

I read it twice, then thumped down on my couch. Well. I definitely wasn’t going to be canceling my appointment next month. As I dropped the paper onto the cushion next to me I noticed that a little map had been drawn in the corner, so fine it looked like it had been made with a stamp. It showed the corner of Byron and 10th, where a small wine bar kept business. It was labeled 8:30, any day this week.

Despite everything, I was curious. Besides, I could go for a little wine, or perhaps something a little stronger, after yesterday. I checked my clock. It was only seven.

I went to clean myself up.