Random Story :
Pompeii
Author : Anthony Merklinger I sat across from it, and …
Time Skipper
Author: Mark Connelly
Dr. Bruner reviewed the patient chart on her laptop as Derek Anders sat across from her, draping his jacket on the arm of the chair.
“Dr. Rizzo said you reported new symptoms?” she asked.
“Yes,” he answered, leaning forward. “I think I’m having mini seizures or something. My time perception is off.”
She nodded. Patients recovering from head trauma often reported problems with perception and memory.
“Are you forgetting things or having trouble estimating how much time has passed?”
“No, it feels like I’m traveling through time.”
“Time traveling?”
“It just feels like that. Not like in the movies where you go a hundred years into the past or the future. It’s more like skipping ahead or skipping back a few seconds. Look, let me explain. This morning I walk to the bus stop and look south, and there’s the 36 bus two blocks away. Well, I turn my head and suddenly the bus is in front of me with the doors open. Like I flash-forwarded half a minute. Then in the lobby I get on the elevator and press 12. I’m looking at the panel, and the lights go two, three, four, until we get to eight. Then suddenly it’s starting over one, two, three. Now I was the only one in the elevator, and I did not feel it descend. I was still going up, but it was like an instant replay on TV. It feels like I’m fast-forwarding or skipping back. It’s weird,” he sighed.
“Well, you had a serious brain injury on. . .” she checked the date on her screen, and when she looked up, he was gone.
“… I know,” he said, standing by the window, “but after the crash I just had memory problems, some vertigo, and double vision. These time skips just started or maybe I just began noticing them. . .”
Suddenly, he was back seated in his chair. “That’s good to hear, Doctor. Maybe that test will show something.”
She swallowed hard and started to speak when he vanished again.
“Sorry, Doctor,” he said, standing in the doorway, sheepishly waving his jacket. “You must think I’m losing my mind.”
She blinked rapidly, then looking forward, saw Derek’s jacket resting on the arm of the empty chair.
“Say, don’t forget your jacket,” she found herself saying.
Derek ducked back into the office, swept up his jacket, blushed, and left. Pausing, he looked back. “Sorry, Doctor,” he said, standing in the doorway, sheepishly waving his jacket. “You must think I’m losing my mind.”
“Not at all,” she assured him. “Not at all.”
After he left, Dr. Bruno stared at the wall clock for a long time, drawing comfort from the steady even sweep of the second hand.