It felt like I was drifting through a strange fog, tidying my flat on what was meant to be a rare, proper day off. Suddenly, my phone buzzed and a voice echoedAlice, an old acquaintance, was coming over with her son. It didnt seem to matter how many times I explained I was knee-deep in cleaning; she breezed past my words as if they evaporated in the air.
Within moments, the bell rang and they materialised in my hallway. I never felt quite easy around Henry, her boy, who was full of wild energy. We sat at the kitchen table, sipping tea that tasted oddly like clouds, while Henry gazed at the flickering TV, lost in some cartoon universe.
Then, out of nowhere, a crash thundered through the flatlike the walls themselves had decided to howl. I found myself staring at my busted fish tank: water seeped everywhere and the goldfish wriggled across the carpet, their scales glittering dream-like, as if they might sprout wings.
Alice darted straight for Henry, checking his limbs with frantic hands. I summoned an ancient rag and began squeezing water, trying to keep it from trickling through to Mrs. Baxter below. As soon as the puddles were subdued, Alice declared with almost ceremonial finality that theyd be off.
“Could you give me a hand taking the rug to the dry cleaners?” I ventured, voice echoing like a distant bell.
“No, Henrys terribly shaken, we must comfort him,” she replied, as though consulting an oracle.
I knelt before Henry and asked why he was fiddling near the aquarium. He mumbled something about a paper plane flying into the glass. I searched for evidenceno paper, just empty air. He gestured toward the cupboard, saying thats where he found the material. Opening it, I realised hed fashioned his craft out of my marriage certificate, which now floated in tatters.
Just get another one, its only paper, Alice said, her voice swirling like tea leaves.
Why worry? Ill buy a new tank, get a fresh certificate, pay for repairs, and all will melt into the everyday background. As if that wasnt enough, Alice scolded meYou shouldnt leave something important where it can be seen.
When they vanished, I wandered down to Mrs. Baxters door, apologies pooling at my feet. Everything seemed to settle, and I slipped into bed, hoping to find some semblance of rest.
But as the evening stretched on, Alice sent a message demanding pounds for their visit to a therapistHenrys nerves were apparently shattered. I didnt reply; I simply let her number dissolve into the ether, as if the whole affair had been nothing but a peculiar, floating dream.
