I woke up extra early this morning to an usually bright sun competing with a strong winter breeze. The frequently fluctuating weather stirred me from my slumber. As I turned on my side preparing to open my eyes, I thought of how strong the winds must be in order to so entirely penetrate my small bedroom window. Sitting up with a stretch and yawningly opening my eyes I shockingly discovered there was no roof on my house.
All of my belongings, the kitchen and bath, were undisturbed in there places only their was no roof nor any walls. I looked out over the street and into the park in amazement without a clue as to what to do. Only a small child running ahead of his mother to school took the time to glance upward and pass me a wave. No one else noticed. It was not by any means of disguise, the folks on the street simply never look up. They are all in a rush in the morning and most of them wore headphones or were occupied by small devices.
I tried calling the landlord but succeeded only in messaging. I also tried the papers but they were unimaginably difficult to contact as a celebrity was in town who'd been seen at a cafe. Finally I reported the incident to the police. I decided to make breakfast and clean up a bit and was thankful that none of the apartments amenities had left with the roof.
About an hour and a half, which I spent practicing the piano, after making my report the police finally arrived. At the same exact moment the land lord and a fire truck also pulled up. Two police officers and the proprietor of the rooms came crawling up the rescue ladder and over the side of house. After a brief fit of hysteria, the officials calmed my frantic landlord and entered into a line of stern questioning from which I learned of the shocking absurdities which made this fairly reasonable situation churn to a nightmare.
I gathered from the roof top inquiries that the reason for the extended delay on the part of the officials was due to the fact that they had passed my report as a crank file. It was not until the landlord corroborated my story that the response was sent out. However, the landlord's position regarding the occurrence differed quite drastically from what my own perception. The landlord, named James claimed he'd never heard of me. And what was worse is that he claimed that the house never even had a fourth floor! James had received my message, which was really weird because despite the fact that I remembered him as well as any tenant does his super, we had apparently never met. After hearing the strange recording he drove by to inspect his property and was compelled to venture immediately for the police.
I gave the police my identification which they had to send down the ladder, while several fire fighters inspected the roof. I saw them talking and scratching their heads before they turned to whisper something in the police sergeants ear. He relayed to me that the experts declared my relocation a task indefinitely inconceivable for any single man. They stated that certain construction, such as the sinks and cabinets would have taken much time and equipment to install in working order on top of a roof. Besides that the flooring a carpets were completely in tact. A survey of witnesses was hardly worth while, as the entire construction was in fact entirely impossible.
After this report the police relaxed a little towards me and another officer came up over the side. At this we discovered that my personal details were all in order. In fact even my registered address was almost the same. The street, house and apartment number all checked out, until a small discrepancy in the postal code gave way. This single letter difference revealed that my own apartment was on a different B------- Avenue!
A few standard procedures later and the chief detective, the first two officers, and a car load of curious firefighter's and myself drove across town to examine the apartment corresponding with the zip. The land lord stayed behind infuriated, however he volunteered to had arrangements made for the safe removal of my belongings. The drive lasted only minutes with the sirens and we arrived at the house. It was exactly like the one I'd woke up in only it still had a top floor. The street and the park were identical although I thought it best not to mention it. In the officer's eyes I was likely one stray comment away from the asylum.
We all entered the house and the other borders greeted me. Everything was in order as I'd remembered it to be. My key unlocked the top floor apartment but the rooms were entirely barren. Fortunately dust and age marks on the flooring perfectly mapped out the layout which had obviously been hastily removed. The investigators subsided that this was in fact an identical layout to the strange roof top anomaly and could certainly prove that all my furniture was once here.
The officer's asked my housemate numerous questions and perplexed by their discoveries decided to call the building's owner. James, the land lord of this second building arrived looking uncannily identical to the angered James on the roof. Even the officer's were startled. The only distinguishing characteristic I can explain was that this second James seemed that much more like my memories but not for any identifiable reason.
So following much deliberation, the police decided to release me though the courts will likely assign me the bill for returning my things. There is a moving company lowering the furniture as I write, and I am expecting all my possessions by six o'clock tonight. The officer's warned me that this would go in their files and that they would be watching in case of any further occurrences. My earlier suspicions were consolidated as the chief Detective turned back before exiting and said "You probably shouldn't talk about this much, you don't want to end up at the center for addiction and mental health." I glanced out at the frenzied streets, people and towers and answered unintentionally "I am already be there."
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