Follow the Fortune Cookie

Day Sixteen: A Day Unknowing

"30-Day Blogging Challenge ON HIATUS"  by: Prosperous Snow celebrating
The Prompt: When you went to sleep last night, it was in your own bed or familiar surroundings. You wake up this morning in a strange bed and unfamiliar surroundings. You recognize your reflection with some differences, the face in the mirror is an older/younger version of you. Everyone you meet knows you, but by a different name. Where are you? What is your name? How do you believe you arrived in your present location?
The Music: "Us of Lesser Gods" - Flogging Molly

I pulled at the tiny crinkles next to my eyes, their shade a lighter, deeper golden brown. Every strand of black hair had turned into a curl of dove grey. I twist it around my finger. It bounces a little as I pull my finger away. More curl, less frizz. Who ever thought that would happen? The smile in the mirror is less cynical than usual, but there is still small slant of sarcasm. I'm glad it's still here. Reminds me of who am still partially me.

There is a knock on the door. The dull orange paint flakes away from the frame with the force. Such an odd choice for a hotel door.

"Who is it?" The question is raspy, deeper. Like smoke trapped in a clear glass.

"Umm...Dr. Harkness?" He had a young man's voice, barely broken into the prime of life. "There was a package left for you at the door."

I open the door. The silk robe over my shoulders billows with the new found. It's the reason I hate silk. Too slippery. Too delicate. Too easily torn. The bellboy looks frighten at my appearance. He smiles slightly. I try to give him one back, but only serves to frighten him more. I grab the white box - "Dr. Jacklyn Harkness" sketched over the top. It's not my name. But the boy seems to think otherwise. I grab the cookie I found of the dresser and handed it to him before shutting the door in his face.

There are no sharp implements in the room. The wallet I've been too scared to look at sits idly on the dresser next to where the cookie once sat. I open it now, looking for any means of cutting through tape. The ID inside shows a picture of me in my altered state. The name reads "Tosh Tam". I rolled the name off my tongue. It was too foreign, too new to be real.

The plastic of the ID cuts through the box tape with easy. Inside white box sat a brown one, also taped to the gills. There more and more boxes. Black. Blue. Red. Aubergine. Finally, the last box, no bigger than my palm. I pull the forest green velvet ribbon from the bow and let it fall onto the comforter. Inside, nestled in a bundle of cotton balls, was a scarred medical bracelet and folded crane paper in origami.

The medical bracelet fight well. The cool metal was nice against my skin. I ran my fingers over the engravings. This was my name. My true name. The name I could aloud over and over, and it would never grow old. The note on crane paper was not as joyous, the words running through my brain over and over. Next time, sweet.

The words were as bitter as the realization was sweet. For the next time could always be better.

To put a little jig in your step.