“Hello Honey” Mum stepped around and stooped down to look at my face and she said it again. “Hello Honey.” As she took a seat she asked Y if we’d seen anyone yet, but all I could think of was Honey. Why did she call me that? She’d never called me that before.
It was the subtle changes that told you when you were no longer in the right world; when you’d been shifted to a parallel universe. You could always tell because whoever was responsible forgot a minor detail: the colour of a door; the location of a picture; whether the fridge door opened on the left or the right. Something would be different and then you’d know and you’d shatter the illusion they were trying to create.
Maybe that was “Honey”. Maybe “Honey” was that something and now that I’d discovered it I could go back home. This would all be a dream.
