The policemen led me to the bus station. "I'm fine here, thank you." Eyeing me as if I were some majestical being they paused as they began to walk away.
      "You're a really odd lady."
    "And what exactly makes me so odd?" I queried as if I weren't the one who time traveled back to the sixties.
      I started to reconsider my question, as they turned a full one-eighty and started back towards my direction.
    "Well for one your hair, I believe it's the deepest red I've ever seen. And your shoes, your clothes. Where'd you get them?"
           "My mother made them." I lied, shooting my head in the air, mimicking the woman all around me. They seemed to look down from that high way up there, and grimace at my audacity.
         "Well your mum makes some rather odd things, and names her children even odder names. Your whole family must be odd then?"
        "I really would like for you to leave me alone now, I don't need your help, not like you hideous things are much of any, anyway." Shooing them away I headed to the opposite side of the street.
       I could hear them murmuring as they faded into the distance.
       And when I was finally alone it hit me,
     I was decades and decades away from home.
I didn't know how to get back, and I was more out of place here than I've ever been in my entire life.
       I felt abused, any bit of confidence I had left was stripped of me, tossed away to wither away with the useless.
      I was useless. And I felt trapped in a way.
    So I sat down on the brick road, holding myself in the basking cold, as it nipped away at my torn soul.
     When you're used to being cold and lonely, does the usual ever become warming?