'Good morning Chicago, its a frosty day out there so wrap up tight ...'

MEOWWWWWWWWW!!!!!


Thump!!!!!!!

7.30, and just another ordainary day for Chicago native, Gary Hobson.Carefully lifting off his woolen blanket,
then thick, warm duvet, reluctantly waking up.
'Why dont ya just give me a day off, or even a lie in?' Gary mumbled, but, as always, it never does.
'It' being his early edition, an edition of The Chicago Sun-Times, a day early.

As Gary lifted the bolt and drew inwards the frosted paned door, he kept his eyes on the floor.
Nothing.
Nothing!
But, he had heard ... He then raised his eyes slowly,
until he found himself face to face with a pale, old man, clutching the cat, and, of course, the
paper.He was dressed in an ordinary, if not slightly old fashioned dark coloured suit, with a red bow tie.

'Who? What? How? He could not find the words.He lowered his voice to a whisper.How'd you get in here?
The doors are locked downstairs. We've got alarms ... D'you know about ... about the paper?'
The man, in response, just nodded and placed his index finger to his lips, indicating Hobson to stay silent.

The cat, who usually doesnt take to strangers, seemed quite at home in this pale, old man's arms.
Then, Gary realised something that he had put at the back of his mind a while ago.
Now, he remembered.
Are you? ... The old man nodded again, then beckoned to Gary to follow him as he descended the stairs.

As Hobson entered his bar, Mc Gintys, he felt the pang of the frosty air, as the heating was not turned on yet.
As the old man stood at the door, waiting as Gary rummaged in his wallet for the key, he gently
lifted up his coat sleeve, reveiling an intricate silver watch, slightly old fashioned.
As Gary raised his head to look at the man, the man quickly pulled down his sleeve, but not in time.
Hobson gasped as he saw the man's hand.

It was see-through.
'What is this? Why do you want me?'Hobson demanded questioningly.

'Ill show you'

And at that, he walked through the door, leaving Hobson to follow. Still in shock, and, as usual, curious,
Gary followed. Down Illinos Street, across Chesnut ave., where Gary, until now looking at the heels of the mysterious
man to keep up, suddenly looked around him. 'Oh, no' he cried in horror. Deja-vous washed immediatly over his entire body.*

What Gary had seen was Chicago, but not normal Chicago, but a less congested Chicago, the Chicago of the 1940's.
Now Gary was sure of who the man was, but he still needed proof......


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As they turned in a street, Gary could hear old fashioned jazz music coming from a pub. It must have been about lunch time.
All of a sudden, the man turned in an open door, to a house. Gary followed closely, but the man had dissapeared, yet the cat remained.
The cat called to him, then ran up the dilapidated stairs, which had not been cleaned in many years, it seemed.

Gary, knowing that the cat usually knew what to do, followed him up the stairs. HHe stepped onto a landing, which led to several bare bedrooms.
The third room, however, looked more promising.The cat sauntered in through a door with a fade plaque with the letters:

L. S.

Gary was almost certain by now who he had just followed.He moved into the room, which seemed to have once been a study.
The only furniture the room contained was a pine desk, with two drawers. Gary opened the top drawer.Nothing.
He opened the bottom.Inside, it contained a brown envelope, sealed.On the front, in bold writing, it said:

To Gary Hobson,
To be opened July 17th, 1946

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To be continued