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Sitting there, reading his typical paper on his typical Sunday morning, Samuel J. Kent had no feelings of unusual happenings. Absorbed in his list of mundane job openings, he took no notice when a woman appeared –quite literally- out of the thick summer air. Landing, from a sort of hovering state, on the ground beside his bench, she stumbled and let out a sound of surprise.
She wore a particularly peculiar assortment of garments, stalkings and sweaters in earthy tones. She was lofty and thin, with hair cut choppy and all widely curly in an auburn shade. She had a patchy looking bag slung across her chest and the chain of a pocket watch hanging from her top-most sweater pocket and a large, boxy watch on her left arm. Muttering to herself, she sort of paced, a ring of air around her shape seeming to shimmer and wave. She kept checking her watch thing. “Where- I could have sworn… to the left? That stupid- no- the right?” She continued pacing for a few minutes, eyes moving to and from the box on her wrist, before taking off in a full sprint straight ahead as if she was covered in honey and every wasp in New York was on her tail.
Being the typical man he was, Samuel J. Kent passed off this girl and her shimmering air as a tourist and a hot day; Samuel J. Kent wasn’t a man to think of time traveling or to watch sy-fy movies- Samuel J. Kent thought of nothing on Sunday mornings but finding a job. He was a simple man in all the most boring ways.
Because of this, one might find it strange if they were to hear that Samuel J. Kent followed in pursuit of this young woman; then again, this day was far from typical.
Running after the strange girl at paces one might be surprised to know were possible in a suit, he had gotten a bit lost, tripping over trash cans and ducking into alleys, so when this girl noticed Samuel J. Kent on her trail, she stopped running abruptly and before noticing, she and he collided.
Now, it is reasonable to infer, due to gravity, that they’d both fall to the ground- hard and painfully- but you’ve never met a girl like this. Poor Samuel J. Kent fell, tumbling to the ground, though the mystery girl remained on her feet as if she were a bolder this man could not quite jump over. She looked down at him, an obvious curiosity in her eyes, as if she’d never seen a living person in her life. She watched as he stood, scowling and brushing himself off, watched as he turned to her and watching as he spoke, “What do you think you’re doing?!”
“You were following me.” She stated, innocently confused. “Isn’t that what you do when someone is following you?”
Samuel J. Kent could not feel more atypical, and he didn’t like it. He ignored her.
“Well, I guess you shouldn’t follow people around all of New York.” She paused and glanced again at her large box of a watch, “Say, what’s today’s date?”
Glaring, he replied, “July 1st.”
“And the year?” She pulled a pocket watch from her jacket and flipped it open.
“What do you mean what year is-“
“I asked you what year it is.” She was glaring now.
“2003. Does none of those fancy watches have the date on it? Who buys two huge clocks and neither of them tell you the date?”
Samuel J. Kent was a typical man with typical thoughts and no imagination, so think of his surprise when he realized that the box on her wrist was not a watch, but instead, a time machine: and this girl was fighting aliens.
“It’s called a TVM. It doesn’t matter what that means, just don’t touch it.”
He continued to follow her through alleyways and hotel lobbies, listening as she muttered, hoping to catch something logical coming from her mouth. They ran around the entire upper-east side before even stopping to breathe, let alone introduce themselves.
“Hey! Slow down! What’s your name, anyhow? Where’d you even come from?!”
“Names… um. You can call me… Sloane.” She glanced back at him, but continued to dodge people-traffic on the busy NY sidewalks.
He paused, “You just made that up off the top of your head, didn’t you?” It wasn’t a question. “Fine then, Sloane. I’m Samuel J. Kent. It’s been a real pleasure to meet you.” Sarcasm wasn’t a strong suit of his, though he knew the point got across when she turned and scowled at him before twisting back around to continue on her way.
“Samuel J. Kent, huh?” She snickered and faced him, “Well, Sammy, are you going to help me find this monster or not?”
And so was the day that Mr. Samuel J. Kent realized that life wasn't about routine or finding some job that he will hate waking up for, but instead, life was about adventure and atypical is the best thing you could be.