Quentin toppled over himself as he struggled to find his balance on the top of the roof. More and more often he was having blackouts that landed him in precarious places. As he peered over the edge, he recognized one of the buildings several blocks over and knew immediately that he was in LA, but he had no idea how he got there. He brushed the dust from his knees and elbows and took the stairs down to the main entrance.
"Good day Sir," the doorman said with familiarity.
"And a good day to you," Quentin replied.
The sun burned through his foggy sense of himself as he crossed the street to the coffee shop.
"I'd like a…"
"Oh, I know what you like Mr. Spradley, three shots of espresso with no frills," the barista said as he turned to put the coffee on the counter for him.
"Thank you," Quentin pulled the coffee to his mouth hoping that as he woke, this Twilight Zone feeling would dissipate.
Quentin knew the streets of LA and he particularly enjoyed sitting on the grass in front of the High School, though he had been chased off a time or two for being suspicious, and with good reason, a man of his age ought to find a better place to hang out than in front of the high school. Still, it was a place that was somewhat quiet during the daylight hours in a city that always had an undercurrent of activity going on. If it looked like he would be chased off, he would transfer to the Library across the street.
Quentin finished his coffee and things were starting to feel a bit more real to him. Though he could not shake the nagging feeling that he was supposed to be doing something important. He dropped the coffee cup into a trash bin and headed downtown. Just before he rounded the corner on West Pine, he heard a child cry. The hair on the back of his neck stood up, but he could not see anyone in distress. His whole body began to tingle, he felt that Twilight Zone feeling coming back. A bright red SUV turned the corner, at the same time a woman driving a little blue Prius had a heart attack and stepped on the gas. There was an infant in the backseat crying. Quentin's mouth formed the words "STOP" but neither driver could hear him. He ran into the middle of the road just as the cars struck each other. He did not have time to realize that even though he was standing in the middle of mashed metal, his body was not harmed. He unbuckled the infant, and tucked him into his arms, "loosening his tie with one hand, Quentin stepped out into the cold clear winter air and flew" (Les Grossman) the infant to safety.