Nothing Is As You Remember It
By: Squidward
For the first time in a long time, Natalie and her mother went on a trip to
Paris during the summer. After a week of sightseeing and travel, it was time for them
to head back home, but on the day of their departure, her mother fell severely ill.
They decided it was best to stay in Paris until she recovered.
The days went by and Natalie’s mother’s condition only seemed to worsen by the
hour. After two days, she decided to call a doctor to visit her mother in their hotel
room. “It’s room 303,” she instructed the doctor clearly in her broken French. When
the doctor arrived half an hour later, he carefully examined her mother and instruct-
ed her to get a special medicine that could only be found in a pharmacy on the other
side of the city.
The kind doctor helped her find a cab, with the license plate number CLU0021,
and spoke quickly and incomprehensibly in French to the taxi driver, probably the
pharmacy’s address. Natalie thanked the doctor for his help and left to get the medi-
cine while the doctor said he would remain in the hotel with her mother to ensure
that she was alright. The taxi driver drove slowly through winding alleyway instead
of the main road. “Probably to avoid traffic,” Natalie told herself, but she was
doubting it. It was a Tuesday afternoon and there were only a handful of cars on the
road. At one point, she was nearly convinced that they had passed the same shop
twice.
When Natalie finally arrived at the pharmacy, she told the driver to wait for
her to return and went inside. She handed the pharmacist the piece of paper on which
the doctor wrote the name of the medicine. “Ah! The doctor said that he would send
someone,” exclaimed the pharmacist. She turned around and went inside a storage room,
leaving Natalie alone and anxious. She nervously drummed her fingers as she saw the
hands on the clock move. 10 minutes… 15 minutes… nearly 20 minutes had gone by before
the pharmacist reappeared from the small room with a bottle the size of her thumb.
She thanked the pharmacist while handing over her 20 euros and rushed out of the
pharmacy.
“Are all people here this slow?” Natalie wondered as the cab driver made his way
through the winding alleyways again at snail speed. Her suspicion continued to rise
as she noticed that they were passing the same shop twice; it was definitely not here
imagination anymore. “Excuse me, I think you’re going in the wrong direction,” she
told the driver. He did not reply to her. When the cab stopped in front of a signal,
Natalie dashed out of the car and with the help of a pedestrian, found out that the
driver was taking her in the wrong direction.
When she finally arrived at her hotel again, she approached the receptionist and
asked her for an extra set of keys to her mother’s hotel room. “What is your mother’s
room number?” the receptionist asked. “It's 303.” Natalie replied. “I'm sorry, but
that room belongs to another guest.” the receptionist answered. Natalie argued with
the receptionist and the hotel manager until the doctor strolled down the stairs. “He
will tell you that I'm telling the truth,” Natalie told the manager confidently. She
approached the doctor and asked him how her moth-
er was feeling to which he replied: “I do not
know who you are talking about”.
Shocked, Natalie asked the manager for the room
keys so that she could show them that her mother
was in the room. The manager and doctor followed
behind Natalie as she walked down the corridor
towards room 303, but she knew instantly that
something was wrong. The door that was previously
a deep shade of scarlet was now a navy blue, the
carpet inside had transformed into mahogany and
her mother, who Natalie left lying on the bed was
nowhere to be seen.
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