When I woke up in the morning I noticed my room was different. I sleep on a box spring and cheap mattress on the floor. I was in a bed raised off the floor. I glanced up, with a headboard. There’s wallpaper on the wall.

    I sat up and looked at the wallpaper, small prigs of, what is that? Wheat? Bizarre. I turned and looked at a fully furnished bedroom. Armoire, ladies table and high back chair. End tables, what is this… I walked over to the windows and looked at the heavy lace curtains. I glanced out the window to a strange main street, a nineteen forty Packard parked across the street. Women dressed in wiggle dresses walked the street with gentlemen in suits and matching fedora’s.

    The bark of someone’s poodle brought me back to my side of the glass.

    What is going on? There shouldn’t be this much detail in my life. I don’t like so many… complications, details…. trappings. I drew in a breath, except this is NOT your life. You just woke up here, in someone elses’ life… and time. I took one more glance at the curtains, things sure were different back then.

    I walked over to the dressing table, and sat down looking into it.

    Who was this girl I was looking at?

    This blacked hair beauty had the fairest, clearest, most flawless skin I had ever seen. And I’m talking models have come into the diner to eat, so I know what I’m talking about here. Her hair, it must have taken hours to get it rolled up like that. Those perfect dark curls cascading down. Then the painted red vixen lips, she pursed them together then kissed at the mirror. Those dark eyes, are they black? They look black with fleck of silver in them, like a midnight sky showing off the stars in the country. What am I talking about?

    I pushed away from the table and walked out of the bedroom.

    In the living room was more furniture, in a nineteen forties decor. Even down to a rotary phone. What on earth. I played with the telephone a little to hear the strange noise the dial made as it clicked back into place.

    I glanced around the walls, there were a lot of paintings on the walls. They were all of happy places, and full of colors, places, and people. An old phonograph player sat on a small table in the corner. A wooden bookcase full of records was next to it.

    “Where’s my painting?” I demanded of the four walls.

    I was a little miffed. It’s my apartment but my painting’s not there?

    Then as I walked around the room I noticed something strange in the bathroom. I walked closer to the bathroom door and saw above the sink. My mirror.

    Agnus and Mabel were already at the five and dime drinking pop when I walked in. Mabel wore indigo taffeta causing her caramel colored skin to look more inviting than normal. Agnus was the only colored girl on the street who dare wear white. The three women were at the peak of their lives.

    I , Shell with the perfect black hair, am going to marry a banker. I’ll be the proud mother of three perfect children and live upstate in a grand house. Maybe one of my children will grow up to be president.

    Agnus is engaged to a jazz musician and band leader at a prominent speak easy. She will hold parties even the stars of Hollywoodland will die to come to.

    Mabel just landed a real estate job, she is breaking ground and making the way for all woman kind.

    It was a perfect evening out and ended with the trio seeing the nickle pictures.

    As I walked back to my apartment, I noticed a strange man in the shadows. His form was hidden all but the outline, his eyes stood out as his only recognizable feature.

    He spoke in a sort of sing song voice, “Shell, Shell wont you come to the beach for a walk with me.”

    I was slightly startled but decided to pick up my pace and briskly walk to my front door.

    At the next alleyway I passed there was the shrouded figure again. “Shell, Shell wont you come to the beach for a walk with me.” he sang in a taunting, haunting, memorizing tone. “Come spend a little time along the sea. The world belongs to you and me. My little Shell, Shell, Shell by the sea.”

    I tried to pull myself away from his hypnotic eyes and chant. He spoke the verse several times before I managed to regain composure.

    I raced towards my apartment, in my rush the heel of my shoe broke off. I left it in the street and continued hurriedly home.

    I could hear the man still speaking in the near distance. I quickly jammed the key in the door and rushed inside to safety.

    I turned on the gas lights and breathed a slight sigh of relief. I walked to my kitchenette and saw upon the table, my broken heel and seashell. A track of sand led into the rear entrance. An unlighted alleyway.

    I thought of calling the coppers, but what if they were in on it. It was so hard to tell who was who these days. I know things like this happen in the south all the time, but here. Here I was accepted, here I am equal. Besides, this was no threat. If it was anything it was a gesture of goodwill. Bringing back a woman’s heel to her. For all that pair of eyes knows this is my favorite pair of shoes, and he caused me to ruin them.

    I laughed as I picked up the patent red leather square heel, too bad he didn’t leave me some spare change for the cobbler. I set the heel back down and kicked off my shoes and walked to the bathroom.

    I glanced in my mirror at the beauty that stared back at me. A beauty named Shell, I guess. “Shell, Shell wont you come to the beach with me…” I said to my reflection and smiled.

    As I laid down to sleep in the darkness of the night, I swear I heard in distance… Waves crashing on a beach.

    When I awoke I was laying on a blue and white striped canvas deck chair in the sand facing the sea. The canvas felt sturdy and yet soft, the colors were slightly faded from sun exposure. The beach seemed endless and deserted in either direction. All except for the wildlife which stayed a weary distance while performing their morning routines.

    The fresh sea air filled my lungs and made me feel brand new from the inside out. The salty air was both cool and warm at the same time. Seagulls made noise in near distance, as the waves lapped rhythmically on the shore.

    To my right was some kind of exotic chilled fruit juice. The sunrise just then hit the contents of the glass and brought them to life.

    The layers of pinks, oranges, reds, and yellows matched the morning sky. The sun brought the juices a sort of supernatural glow. The crushed ice within the mixture muted the light out and created a frosted overall glow. The light condensation on the outside of the glass paled the colors lightly. It was a mixture of morning glows I had never experienced.

    I’d never noticed how pink is pink, how light or how vibrant? Warm glow, or soft glow.

    It was all so amazing. I am seeing it all for the first time, and it feels like magic.

    The touch of the glass, so smooth and cool. The dampness on my fingertips felt soothing as I lifted the glass to my lips.

    As the glass came closer, I could feel the air temperature surrounding my lips drop by a few degrees.

    The chill of the crushed ice as it touched my lips. The coldness of the liquid that poured past them, and trickled down past my tonsils. My tonsils felt a chill they had not felt before and delighted over it.

    The fruit teased my taste buds one after the other as they competed for acceptance. First orange and strawberry fought for domination with a bitter then sweet entanglement. Soon followed tangerine and mango, dueling it out in the same battle for attention. But the ending duo of banana and cherry left a sweetness in her mouth. The reward for enduring the battle, the sweet taste of victory.

    The details, it was all about the details. I had never noticed them before. Before when? What was I thinking of, what is this ‘Before’.

    I took in a deep breath and glanced out the sky meeting the sea in perfect harmony. A calm greeting today, both happy to receive each other’s company this morning.

    I heard footsteps walking toward me in the sand.

    I lazily roll my head in the direction of my approaching disturbance.

    All I see though is a male figure, blotting out the sun’s brights rays.

    Only a outline can be made out of the well chiseled man in bathing trunks. The sun’s rays radiated around his outline like a fire.

    I watched in silence as the figure stood there. Heat fumes were beginning to radiate from the outline.

    He began to sing, “Shell, Shell wont you come to the beach for a walk with me. Come spend a little time along the sea. The world belongs to you and me. My little Shell, Shell, Shell by the sea.”