WP: Start with "Why is the steering wheel red?"
"Why is the steering wheel red?" she asked herself as she turned the corner. She was just (hand signal quote-unquote) "waking up" from one of her (hand signal quote-unquote) "episodes" and she didn't recognize the steering wheel, or the rest of the dash for that matter. She used the hand signal quote-unquotes when she talked about her condition to her family, she thought that somehow legitimizing it. Thought that made it normal.
She didn't use the hand signals at work, or with the doctor. At work she didn't really talk to anyone. Just did her thing and left. She couldn't afford to make friends or even acquaintances with this (hand signal quote-uncouth) "hanging over her head." When she talked to the doctor, she just nodded at the questions so she could get her meds. Not that the meds (hand signal quote-unquote) "helped" her. The doctor didn't know if or when she would ever be cured of her condition, hell, the doctor wasn't even sure what it was.
So she just lived as best as she could. Go to work, go home, visit her family on the weekends. Every once in a while she'd just (hand signal quote-unquote) "wake up" and be somewhere else, some time other. She learned to get used to it, and made herself seem as normal as she could. Usually she'd recognize something, and could go from there. She was in her local grocery store. Or at home. Or with her family. One familiar thing helped her figure it all out.
But right now, this car, this red steering wheel, this street even that she was driving on, all of it was very unfamiliar. She wasn't even sure if this was her city. She'd just pull over somewhere and ask for directions, no big deal. But she needed to shake the five speeding cop cars before she could stop.
"What's that all about?" She wondered, and peacefully went (hand signal quote-unquote) "back to sleep."