{Beginning a new story with opening scene:}
Now that Verna finally had a real look around, she couldn't believe she was here. Just passing through the foreign state of New Jersey, she couldn't possibly have been inside "The Crooked Needle" before..She would have remembered it. Everything well-made from a different era, done with creative flair. And right around that corner behind the cash register, there would be ... the spiral staircase. She wondered whether it was still there. Following a wind-driven page from her research folio, she ran into the propped-open door. Originally, she gave a cursory glance in confirmation of what she knew she would see. As if she'd been there a thousand times, she strolled in and sat at her favorite table where she could people-watch those outside. Wait. She didn't have any favorites here. This was getting pretty irritating, being in this constant high-alert state of deja vu. "What will you have for lunch today, Ma'am?" Startled out of her reverie by the mannish voice of the waitress, she relented.
"I was thinking about a B.L.T. Your bacon is homemade, isn't it?" Memories from nowhere created cravings for delicacies she hadn't yet tasted.
"Yes, Ma'am. Finest in the county. We've been curing it ourselves out back for over 200 years. You been here before?"
"Ye... I mean, No. No I haven't. I'll also have a seltzer with a twist. Thanks." She jabbed the menu outward and turned toward the window to see a teenaged girl looking in at her from the other side. She knew she was tired from her long drive, but realized after turning away that there was something odd about the girl's clothing. She wasn't too sure of current fashion, but enough to know, to her rising panic, that it probably didn't include crinoline.