In the year 1940, the anticipation of the approaching new year, which would soon usher in 1941, filled me with a mix of excitement and apprehension. New beginnings often bring with them new challenges, or so I thought.

As I immersed myself in the pages of my book, oblivious to the bustling activity outside where people were preparing for the upcoming New Year's Eve celebrations, I remained seated at the edge of my bed, engrossed in my reading.

Suddenly, the shrill ring of the telephone pierced through the quiet of my room. Startled, I reached for it and held it to my ear.

"Greetings. May I inquire as to who is calling?" I asked cautiously.

"Hello?" came the voice from the other end. Was she speaking with an accent from a different country? It seemed unfamiliar compared to mine.

"Hello, yes? This is Edith.” I responded, my confusion mingling with a hint of unease.

"Why are you talking like you're from the '20s?" the voice on the line queried, perplexing me further. But it was 1940—wasn't it? This interaction felt surreal, almost like a prank call.

"It's 1940, dear.”

I replied, attempting to assert the reality of the situation amidst my growing irritation with what seemed like a series of bothersome prank calls.

little did i know, I was unwittingly reaching out to someone from a different era yet residing in the same house.