Isolde shook her head and couldn't figure out why she held shears and a bunch of long stem roses. The room where she stood was very different from what should have been. Light came from the end of chains overhead. The air was cool even though the flowers and trees outside a large window were in full bloom. Even the window was strange, it was made of a clear hard substance.<br/><br/>A chime sounded  and Isolde picked up a small black rectangle. Her fingers instinctively slid across it's face and she said,<br/><br/>"Flowers For You. This is Isolde. How may I serve you today?"<br/><br/>Even the words that sounded so natural coming from her mouth seemed different.<br/><br/>She took an order for several bouquets of flowers and took down the addresses for delivery.<br/><br/>"125 W. Seagull Avenue, Boston.  Yes, sir, that is not far from my shop. I can have that out for you by tomorrow at noon."<br/><br/>She glanced at her clothes. Dark blue pants and a red silk blouse, ( she sighed, at least whatever time this was, she could still wear silk). covered by a rough,multi pocketed apron.  Isolde touched her hair, pulled a mass of it around to check. Yes, still the color of sunrise and strawberries.<br/><br/>From the furnishings and comfort, Isolde knew she was prosperous and working with plants. She thought she owned this place, from the authority in her voice with the little black rectangle. She shook her head again. Something was different. She knew she was a witch and something else.....<br/><br/>That something else nagged at her thoughts. Whatever it was, her heart longed for it.