The Ticket Window in Grandmother's Brick House

The Ticket Window in Grandmother's Brick House

I was late for work but the office was my grandmother’s old brick house, mixed with the train station. I couldn’t find my phone and I was wearing a long wool skirt like from a period drama, with my usual sneakers. Everyone else had normal clothes. I kept searching for a meeting room that used to be the parlor. In the hallway, which stretched farther than it should, I ran into my ex, except he also felt like some guy from a history tour I’d taken last year. We almost held hands by the ticket window. I wanted to say something, but I was embarrassed about the skirt and about missing the 8:12. He looked at me like we used to, then the platform filled with people from both jobs. I felt that old ache in my chest, then relief when he smiled, then confusion because I couldn’t tell if we were dating now or a hundred years ago. I woke up still looking for the right door.