Before I forget you

The morning light filtered through Dany's bedroom curtains, casting long shadows across her unmade bed. Another day. Another perfectly ordinary, predictable day. She stared at the ceiling, counting the familiar cracks that resembled a distorted map of somewhere she'd never been. Twenty-six years of life, and what did she have to show for it? A decent apartment she could barely afford, a job that paid the bills but drained her soul, and a nagging feeling that something was missing."Time to adult," she muttered to herself, the phrase having become her reluctant morning mantra.The routine unfolded as it always did: shower, coffee, toast that was either slightly burnt or not quite done. Never perfect. She scrolled through her phone, the faces on social media all seeming to lead more exciting lives than hers. Friends traveling to exotic locations, getting engaged, having babies, starting businesses. And here she was, stuck in the same loop day after day.Her phone buzzed with a text from her landlord: Water will be shut off from 10-2 for maintenance. Sorry for the inconvenience."Perfect," Dany sighed, tossing her phone onto the couch. At least it gave her an excuse to leave the apartment on her day off.The streets of the city felt alive in a way her life didn't. People rushing to important meetings, couples holding hands, street vendors calling out to passersby. Dany wandered aimlessly, letting her feet carry her away from the familiar paths she usually took.That's when she saw it—a small antique shop tucked between a modern coffee house and a boutique clothing store. "TEMPUS ANTIQUITIES" read the faded gold lettering on the window. Something about it pulled at her, a gentle tug that she couldn't explain. Before she could rationalize why, she was pushing open the door, a small bell announcing her arrival.The interior was dimly lit, the air heavy with the scent of old books and polished wood. Shelves lined the walls, filled with curiosities from different eras—ornate clocks, vintage jewelry boxes, weathered books with cracked spines. An elderly man with spectacles perched on the end of his nose looked up from behind the counter."Welcome," he said, his voice surprisingly strong for someone who appeared so frail. "Feel free to look around. Everything has a story here.""Thank you," Dany replied, already drawn to the back of the shop where larger pieces of furniture stood like silent sentinels.And there it was. Standing apart from the other pieces, as if demanding its own space. A wardrobe, tall and imposing, made of dark wood that seemed to absorb the light around it. Intricate carvings adorned its doors—symbols she didn't recognize, flowing patterns that seemed to move if she looked at them too long. It was beautiful in a haunting way, like something from a forgotten fairy tale."Ah, you've found our newest acquisition," the shopkeeper said, suddenly beside her. Dany startled, not having heard him approach. "Quite remarkable, isn't it?""It's beautiful," she admitted, reaching out to touch the smooth wood. As her fingers made contact, a strange sensation shot up her arm—like static electricity but warmer, almost alive. She pulled her hand back quickly.The old man smiled, a knowing look in his eyes. "It's said to have belonged to a duchess who disappeared mysteriously in the late 1800s. Some say she used it to escape an unhappy marriage. Others say it simply... took her.""Took her?" Dany asked, her practical mind immediately dismissing the notion while something deeper stirred with curiosity."Just old tales," he said with a wave of his hand. "Are you interested in purchasing it? I could offer you a very reasonable price."Dany laughed. "I doubt it would even fit in my apartment." Yet even as she spoke, she couldn't take her eyes off it. The price he mentioned was indeed surprisingly low for such a piece, almost suspiciously so."I'll take it," she heard herself say before she could think better of it. She could always resell it if it didn't fit. That's what she told herself, anyway.The delivery men brought it later that afternoon, struggling to maneuver it through her doorway. It dominated her small living room, making everything else seem insignificant in comparison. After they left, Dany stood before it, wondering what had possessed her to make such an impulsive purchase.As evening fell, the wardrobe seemed to change with the fading light. The carvings caught the shadows, creating patterns that danced across its surface. Dany found herself drawn to it repeatedly throughout the night, touching the cool wood, tracing the patterns with her fingertips. Each time, that same warm, electric sensation traveled through her hand.That night, she dreamed of the wardrobe. In her dream, its doors slowly opened, revealing not the empty interior she had seen earlier but a swirling vortex of light and color. A voice called to her from within, indistinct but urgent.She woke with a start, heart pounding. The digital clock on her nightstand read 3:17 AM. The apartment was silent except for the distant hum of the city that never truly slept. Something compelled her to get up, to check on the wardrobe.In the moonlight streaming through her living room window, the wardrobe looked different. More alive somehow. The carvings seemed to pulse with a faint, bluish glow. Dany rubbed her eyes, certain she was still half-asleep and imagining things.But the glow remained."This is crazy," she whispered to herself, approaching it slowly. The doors, which she was certain she had closed, were now slightly ajar. A sliver of light—not the blue of the carvings but a warm, golden hue—spilled from the crack.Common sense told her to go back to bed, to deal with this in the morning when the sun was up and the world made more sense. But the same inexplicable pull that had drawn her into the shop now drew her toward the wardrobe's doors.Her hands trembled as she reached for the ornate handles. The metal was warm to the touch, almost hot. Slowly, she pulled the doors open wider.Instead of the empty space she expected, a brilliant light poured out, enveloping her. The air around her seemed to vibrate, humming with energy. The floor beneath her feet no longer felt solid. A sensation of falling—no, of being pulled—overtook her.Dany tried to scream, but the sound was swallowed by the rushing in her ears. Colors swirled around her, too bright, too fast. Her body felt as though it was being stretched and compressed simultaneously. Pain and pleasure, hot and cold, everything blurred together in a cacophony of sensation.And then, abruptly, it stopped.The first thing she noticed was the smell—unfamiliar, a mixture of coal smoke, horse manure, and something floral. Her eyes fluttered open to a world that was not her own.Gone was her apartment. Instead, she stood on a cobblestone street, surrounded by buildings of brick and stone. Horse-drawn carriages clattered past. Men in top hats and women in elaborate dresses with bustles strolled by, some giving her curious glances.Dany looked down at herself and gasped. Her pajamas had been replaced by a deep blue dress with a fitted bodice and full skirt. Her hands, when she raised them to her face, were adorned with delicate lace gloves.A newspaper blew against her skirt. She bent to pick it up, her movements constrained by unfamiliar undergarments. The date at the top of the page made her head spin: April 17, 1887."This isn't possible," she whispered, her voice sounding strange to her own ears. "This can't be real."A shout from nearby drew her attention. A runaway carriage was hurtling down the street, directly toward a small child who had wandered into its path. Without thinking, Dany rushed forward, her heart in her throat."What the hell is happening to me?!" she cried out as the carriage bore down on them both.