The last thing I remember is driving through that tunnel. That impossibly long, dark tunnel. I don’t know how long I was driving through, but it was at least as long as Vera Lynn’s We’ll Meet Again, which was playing on the radio when I entered, and ended just as the radio cut out. If I had to guess, I’d say it was another 10 minutes after that, at least. I remember the weak yellow lights that lined the tunnel start to flicker, so I turned on my brights. After a couple minutes, those went out too. I suppose that would be the last thing I actually remember.

  Then I woke up here, in this smoky hospital, in a town the nurses tell me is called Elk Valley. Or are they candy stripers? I don’t know, nothing seems right here. I mean, who’s smoked a cigarette in a hospital since the 50s?

  I sort of get along with this one candy striper, Elsie. She’s pretty. Bouncy blonde hair, friendly, soft features. She has a little beauty mark under her left eye that moves up and down when she smiles. Plus, she always brings me coffee and lunch, which I love. Usually, it’s been a plain ham sandwich, but the past few days she’s been adding a slice of pie to the plate. First apple, then cherry, then yesterday it was lemon meringue. The cherry’s been my favorite so far. It has a hint of cinnamon and cardamom, and it’s topped with toasty slivered almonds. Plus, there’s really nothing better than Rainier cherries.

  Anyway, she told me I’d been asleep for a month. A whole fucking month. I guess I missed my flight home. And Christmas, that sucks too. Shit, I bet everyone’s worried sick about me.

  Elsie tells me they found me in the middle of the road, just laying there, twisted like a pretzel, car nowhere to be found. I had a broken arm, leg, and wrist, and a few cracked ribs, all of which are somehow almost completely healed. They said they searched the woods for my car, but nothing turned up. How does a cherry red ’87 Mercedes 300 SL just up and disappear? I loved that car, fuck. I saved up for an entire year for it.

  I asked a different candy striper if they found my phone, and she gave me a confused look. A couple minutes later a doctor came back, injected something in my IV, and I fell asleep. For how long, I have no idea. Admittedly, I was somewhat charmed by the old fashioned aesthetic of Elk Valley. It’s like they were stuck in the 50’s. I’ve never spent much time outside the city, to be honest, but on this road trip I got to see a lot of fun little towns, all with their own little quirks. I definitely thought these guys took it to the extreme, but still, the town was charming in its own way.

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  Yesterday, I asked Elsie if I could go outside, get some fresh air. She gave me this wonderful, almost mischievous smile, and told me she’d be back later that night. I nodded off at some point, reading an old pulp novel she’d let me borrow. Next thing I knew she was waking me up, wearing a red dress that had white polka dots on the skirt. A red ribbon tied up her platinum blonde curls. She helped me into a wheelchair and brought me to the hospital’s elevator, an old fashioned one with an ornate ironwork gate on the outside, and a brass panel with big brass buttons inside. She took me to the top floor then helped me up a couple sets of stairs, then out onto the roof of the hospital. She sat me in a metal chair at the edge of the roof, where I could almost see the entire town. And what a beautiful little town it is. I’ve always loved old Americana type stuff, and boy, does this place deliver. I saw a classic American diner, a tavern with a big sign advertising “COLD BEER,” and what looked like a little drive-in theater in the distance. In the center, on what I would guess is called Main Street, it looked like everyone in town was gathered, standing, waiting for something to happen.

  A loud pop behind me startled me, and I saw Elsie walking over with a bottle of champagne and two glasses. She gave me that same mischievous smile and handed me a glass.

  “You won’t tell on me, will you?” She said.

  I just dumbly shook my head no, and she poured us each a glass. Another loud bang drew my attention back out toward the town. The sky lit up with showers of red and yellow sparks. The bell rang out twelve times. It was New Years Eve. I felt Elsie’s hand on the back of my head, and before I could react, she kissed me. Her lips felt soft and warm, and I wanted it to last forever. She pulled away and used her thumb to wipe the residual lipstick smeared on my flummoxed mug.

  She pulled up another metal chair and sat it next to mine. We sat there, watching the fireworks, drinking our champagne, holding hands. She rested her head on my shoulder and I started to feel like maybe this was home. An odd feeling, considering I’d never even heard of Elk Valley before I woke up here. But in that moment, something about the town felt oddly comfortable and warm, like I was supposed to be there. For a few minutes at least.

  The fireworks ended and the townsfolk started to disperse, and Elsie reached down for the bottle of champagne. She poured us each a third glass, finishing off the bottle. She stood up and spun to look at me with glittering hazel eyes and said something that turned my stomach upside down.

  “Here’s to a brand new year, filled with joy, laughter, and possibly love,” that same mischievous smile, “and to the end of 1956.”

  - Emmett Brewer, apparent time-traveler