The past is another country. -- Knitnan
Pam walked around the corner into another world. At least, that was what she thought to begin with. The very air smelled different. Disgusting, in its own way. None of the buildings were familiar. And everyone was dressed really weird. And everyone was staring at her. Pam clung to her purse and tried to be discreet in digging out her self-defense stuff. It had, of course, settled to the very bottom of her bag.
She flinched away from someone approaching on her left. It was a man with a huge jacket and an honest face. "You're all right, now, ma'am," he said in a keep-calm tone of voice. "We're going to get you somewhere safe and you can talk all about it, okay?"
They thought she was underdressed? What? But she was wearing the perfect outfit. Jeggings and a bikini top with a cut-down, loose wife-beater with a glittery "Cheeky" written across the front. But then again, everyone was dressed like they were all going to this super-formal event. Of the women she saw, none of them had a skirt above their calves, let alone their knees. None of them had an exposed elbow. And most of them were wearing pearls.