When I opened my eyes it was nighttime and I was crouched on the sidewalk in front of Brian’s house and it wasn't 1989 anymore.
Roxanne smiled awkwardly, and looked over Julien’s shoulder at the open stall. It looked unremarkable now, drab green-painted metal walls and a white porcelain toilet. Hardly the thing you’d expect from some sort of door in time. At least proper English children in books got to travel through wardrobes and garden holes, not through unhygenic high school bathrooms.
What will become of me?