Linda looked around the unfamiliar bedroom, completely clueless as to how she had gotten there. Her memories told her that she was a 41-year old woman. Not a teenager, and definitely not a Goth. But even so, (after she left the room and explored the rest of the house) she recognized the woman sitting in the living room. It was Agatha DeVries. She couldn't quite remember how she knew her, but she was definitely sure that that's who it was.
"Agatha?" she asked, walking towards the woman.
The woman looked up at her, a confused look on her face. Then the perplexed look turned into a smile. "Linda. This is your house, isn't it? How did I get here?"
"My house? I don't think so. I've never seen this place before in my life."
"What are you talking about?" Agatha asked, standing up and picking up a photo sitting on a nearby table. "This is you."
Linda grabbed the photo. Back in the bedroom, she saw her reflection in the mirror (and was shocked by what she saw for more than one reason) and the girl in the photo looked just like her reflection. Standing next to the girl in the photo was Agatha. It was a family photo, Linda just realized. But wait. If that was a family photo, then ... Agatha was her mom? What was going on here?
