Trip to the bathroom

Blink.

I was in what had to be world's most brightly-coloured bathroom. Through the door, I could hear the the low murmuring and strident music of a television; the sound of some quiz show, maybe?

Listening for a voice, and hearing nothing, I inched open the door.

There was Kate - sitting in front of the TV set, but clearly not watching.

As I said her name, she turned he face towards the door and sprang to her feet, rushing toward me.

"Oh christ, Alan," she said, her voice wavering, "I'm so glad you're back. What happened to you? The thing with your hand, and you disappearing like that - well, I didn't know what to think. Are you all right?"

I explained about the uncontrolled travelling, both now and earlier, and how I feared I was losing control. When I got to the part about rising into the air under the bridge, she started giggling.

"Sorry, sorry. It's just nerves, I think. Only when you said the words, I suddenly thought of that awful bloody song, you know."

I looked puzzled for a moment. Then we both started singing I believe I can fly, at almost the same moment. The laughter felt good. Even with no-one else in the room, it felt like the most private of private jokes.

After she'd heard me out, Kate said, "what do you say we ask the charming Bill if he could send us some sandwiches up? I really don't feel like going out now, and it'll mean we've got more time to pick holes in my plan. Sound OK to you?"

It sounded more than OK to me.



Story begins here.