Y/N's Point of View

I was laying on my bed, listening to the Ramones, when I looked out my window at the rain and saw a bright flash.  I must have passed out because the next thing I remember is waking up on a bench in some unfamiliar place.

I open my eyes and look around at the unfamiliar scenery.  I notice that I am laying on a park bench and I sit up so I can get a better look around.  I see beautiful trees with birds in them.  There are a lot of people around, feeding the birds and talking to one another.  

I am watching a bird that is walking around on the sidewalk, looking for crumbs, when I see a familiar tall, skinny figure walking toward me.  "Joey Ramone," I whisper to myself.

As Joey walks closer, I notice that he has a slight look of concern on his face.  Joey looks at me and then sits down on the bench.  "You look a little lost.  Need some help?" Joey's accent coming through a little.

I look at him and smile slightly.  "I do need help.  I don't know where I am or how I got here," I respond, looking around.

"You're in New York City," he says, smiling.  "Know anyone around here who can help you out?"

"Not really," I say.  "I only know you.  I'm a fan of your music."

"Oh, you can come stay with me, if you want." Joey smiles.

"I don't know," I say.  "You don't know much about me.  How do you know you can trust me?"

"You just seem trustworthy, and it's not safe to stay out here all by yourself."

"Okay.  I'll stay with you."

Joey smiles and stands up, offering his hand to me.

I grab his hand and stand up, adjusting my glasses.  I look down at my feet and notice that I don't have shoes on.  I look up at him with a strange look on my face.  "I don't have shoes."

"Oh, that's alright.  Let's go get you some," he says, as he starts walking.

I follow him into a shoe store and look around.  My eyes stop at a pair of black sneakers.  I walk toward them and starts looking for my size, realizing that the sizes might be different.

Joey notices a look of confusion on my face and walks over to the cashier.  "I think this girl needs some help," he tells him, pointing to me.

The cashier calls to another worker, who walks over to me and measures my feet.  She finds my size and grabs the shoebox, handing it to me.  I thank her as she walks away to help another customer. 

I try the shoes on and they fit perfectly.  I walk to Joey with the shoes and set them down on the counter.  The cashier checks them out and tells Joey the price.  Joey takes out his wallet and pays the cashier, who hands him the shoes along with some change.

We walk out of the store and I put the sneakers on.  We begin walking in the direction of his apartment.