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(Rolls)

1969... Kaleb could no longer feel any surprise, the terrifying events and subsequent separation from everyone else had left him numb, exhausted. He automatically headed in the direction he knew the best, the path that would take him past the grocery store, through the park, and back to his apartment, but it was not the same. The stores were different, wearing different faces much like the people he passed in those quiet hours wore different clothes and different hairstyles.

He knew the outcome before he arrived at his hopeful refuge, the apartment building was not there, not yet built. He recognized the lot it sat on, and a couple of the small, older houses just down the street. Not that he could find his place even if the building did exist, this was a different time, and someone else would have occupied that space where he kept his books and fragile peace of mind back in 2016. Still, he had to see it to be sure.

For a time Kaleb wandered around the town, looking beaten down and hollow-eyed, shivering slightly in the cold air his hoodie couldn't quite keep out. Never had he gone without the basic necessities of food and shelter before, but he grew up in a big city, and he now eyed some of those quiet alleys and park benches. After all the mental strain of the night, it was oddly reassuring to be faced with the need for practicality. He had nothing but some spare change and the keys in his pocket. Although he was completely alone and displaced from the time he knew, his immediate problems were surprisingly simple.

It was at that point his fatalistic mental state collided headlong into sheer dumb luck.

He had barely begun his search for a sheltered place to weather the night when he stumbled across exactly what he needed. A youth shelter. Although a little more under-funded, a little less equipped than one might have been in the modern era, there was a bed for him. And that alone was more than he could have asked for.

The sore mood eventually receded, taking up residence in the back of Kaleb's mind as more pressing needs assaulted him. He had never been a big eater, and could almost get away with the single sad meal provided by the shelter when he returned in the evening. But he didn't have the empty calories of a hot chocolate to make his stomach feel full, or the energy-efficient task of reading books all day. The hunger grew to a gurgling ache, and every scent of food on the streets elicited an unbearable longing.

Perhaps his most lucky break came that morning, when he was standing wistfully in front of the very same bakery that had been a chinese food store. The scent of fresh-baked breads filled the street, making his mouth water. He didn't dare go in, not without any money to make a purchase, but apparently some commotion was going on inside. When one of the staff pulled open the door he was prepared to apologize profusely for his loitering, but instead was asked if he knew how to wash dishes.

When he saw the state of the kitchen, apparently abandoned by the formerly hired dishwasher, Kaleb realized perhaps there were people out here in a more desperate situation than even himself.

He lost track of how many pans he had scrubbed clean that morning, but the immediate reward of a biscuit for the road and a little cash in his pocket was well worth it. His first order of business would be returning those stolen clothes, with a note of apology and heartfelt thanks.

As Kaleb leaves the bakery for the day, a girl in a brightly colored shirt and bell-bottomed jeans sweeps past, doling out fliers like the world is ending. One is shoved into the boy's hand, a smile beaming on her freckled face.

"Concert on the beach!" says the girl airily. "It smells so nice over here, you should come! It's not a protest, I promise, it's just a fun get together of like-minded individuals!"

She gives him a few more fliers just for fun, and then winks and prances off again.