My plan for the day was simple. While my girlfriend slept off her morning kiss, I would drive to the dorm and pick up her things, swing by the grocery store to stock up on food and a few convenience items, and then retrieve the trunk from the storage unit on the way home. The last good thing that happened that day was indulging in Katherine's embrace longer than was strictly necessary.

The Ford started on the second attempt, which put me on edge because as noisy as it had been it never required more than one. After pulling into the parking lot south of Katherine's dorm, it gave a mighty chug and trembled before settling down.

I walked to the far side of the building, hoping to avoid Rachel, but Katherine's friend Gloria stood near the front door chatting with the same tawny-haired girl who'd been with her when Rachel kicked me out of her room. I tried to pass them on the far side of the lot, but Gloria flagged me down and jogged over.

"Tom! Wait up!" I stopped and turned with what I hoped was a friendly smile. She returned it warmly.

"What's up, Glory?" I asked as casually as I could manage, hoping years of trying to pass myself off as normal had given me some aptitude for hiding my nerves.

"Have you seen Katherine? She was supposed to meet me yesterday afternoon to proof my thesis."

She should have come after all. I had no idea how to respond.

"Yeah,' I blurted out, "I mean I talked to her. She said she wasn't feeling well. Did you check her dorm?" I regretted the suggestion immediately. That's where I was heading.

"Not yet," Gloria shook her head, her mane of black curls bobbing side to side. "I was hoping she'd be in class. Are you here to check on her? I'll come up with you."

"No," I said too quickly, "I—I was just there. I told her I'd pick up her homework." A cluster of lights fluttered in front of Gloria's face like glitter in the wind.

"So, she's not there?" she asked, her eyes narrowing.

"Not—I mean she's going—" I had no idea how to bail myself out, and while I fumbled with my words, Gloria's friend joined us.

"Hey, everything ok?" she asked.

"Yeah, Ken, Tom says Kath's off campus. I think."

"Ken?" I asked stupidly, still looking for a way out of the corner I'd painted myself into.

"Kennedy Wiseman," she said with a toothy smile, thrusting her hand forward in greeting, then she cast a conspiratorial glance at Gloria and added, "Naked bingo, right?" Gloria giggled shamelessly.

"Uh, yeah," I answered, taking a step back. "Tom Corwen. And yeah, Kath is—she's staying with a relative in town. I just came from there, and I think she might be contagious." I congratulated myself that my improvised story came with multiple exits, "Sorry, I'm not trying to be rude."

"Oh, it's no problem, I get sick like that." She said, snapping her fingers. Her laugh was both forced and quiet, as if she wasn't sure where to draw the line between being too friendly and not friendly enough.

"Okay, Tom, thanks," Gloria sighed. "I guess we're on our own for now. Tell Kath I hope she feels better soon." Before I could stop her, she went up on her tiptoes and kissed my cheek.

A sharp stab of panic lanced through my chest as a whirl of bright light and hints of color overwhelmed me. Something twisted reflexively inside my head, followed by a surge, like water rushing through a hose. I jerked away rubbed at my cheek as though I could erase the feel of her lips on my skin. Gloria staggered back too, eyes wide.

"I'm sorry, Tom, I didn't mean—I don't—" Gloria looked appalled and her trembling fingers brushed her lips, "I'm so sorry!" she stumbled again and would have fallen if Kennedy hadn't caught her.

"Glory, you okay?" Kennedy's puzzled concern mirrored my own.

"I don't know, I—Ohhh!" she doubled over suddenly, tense and quaking, hissing something that could have been a sigh or a groan, then leaned hard against Kennedy who had to support her again.

"Glor?" Kennedy gave me a pleading look as if hoping I could fill her in.

"I need to get inside, I'm—" she panted heavily, "Sorry Tom, I don't—" she stopped again and sucked air through her teeth, eyes clenched shut and gripping Kennedy's hand hard enough to make her wince. After a couple of seconds, she regained her composure and with a last look at me, limped toward the doors, leaning on her friend for support.

It had almost certainly been my doing, I couldn't talk myself out of that, but what, exactly, had I done? I considered everything Miss Gold had told me, skimming the little knowledge I had for answers. When memory and logic failed to serve, I fantasized briefly about having the power to turn back time or make everyone forget I existed.

I had to settle for knowing she'd recover. I couldn't even make a guess without Miss Gold, but she had left for a week and delays weren't on my agenda. As bad as I felt for Gloria, everything I'd learned so far told me she'd be fine. By the time I let myself in the north side-door I felt slightly better. It had only been skin contact, which wasn't good, but it had been the briefest touch. If Katherine was able to hold my hand for more than thirty minutes, how bad could a peck on the cheek possibly be?

I made it to the stairs without running into anyone, but Rachel's door cracked open just as I reached the stairwell so I sprinted up both flights as fast as my legs would take me.

I reached the top, limbs shaking, then stepped into an empty hallway and stood still, listening for movement. Maybe I was being overcautious, but the incident in the front lot had me on edge and I wanted to avoid any other random encounters. Satisfied that nobody was coming up the stairs, I unlocked Katherine's door with her card and slipped quickly inside.

Penny turned her head, eying me like a predator as the door clicked shut behind me. "Come on in, tiger. Wanna help?"

She wore a dark blue thong and nothing else, casually evaluating a pair of white and blue striped shorts held high in both hands. My only saving grace was that she'd been facing the window with her back to the door, which gave me enough time to spin around and find something less naked to stare at.

Her laughter was low and sultry, belying her thin frame, "That's cute, Tom, but you can watch, I don't mind." She paused dramatically, pouring her words out like syrup, giving them time to soak in. "Our girl isn't here," she added, then finished after a deliberate pause, "but you knew that."

"This really isn't a good time," I said impatiently, keeping as still as I could. There was no way I could risk moving around in a small dorm when my arms—and most of Penny—were bare.

"Then you shouldn't have barged into a lady's room." She wasn't reprimanding. Her tone made it into a game and implied that she was more than willing to play.

"The dorm is practically empty, Penn, I assumed you were gone. I just stopped to pick up some things for Katherine."

She laughed again. "Is that why she didn't come back last night? Was she with you?" I felt the tip of her fingernail trace a line down my spine and thanked all things holy for the thin layer of cotton between us.

Penny huffed when I didn't answer, "You're no fun, Tommy. That's okay, you can keep your secrets if you tell me whether these shorts are too revealing for the classroom."

I just closed my eyes and hoped she was in as much of a hurry as I was.

"Penny for your thoughts?" she taunted, voice dripping with provocation. It had been far easier to ignore her from behind the heavy fog of my medication.

"Nice try, but I'm not turning around until you're on the other side of the door and down the hall."

"Spoilsport," She pouted, "tell you what, I'll hurry and get out of your hair if you sit down and face me like a real person."

"I'm not going to—"

She sighed heavily, "Oh, I promise I'm not naked. Come on, Tom, you know I love the attention. Tit for tat."

Knowing she'd just keep pushing, I peeked over my shoulder. True to her word she wasn't nude, but only if you accepted the word's most literal meaning. She was slipping her long, narrow legs into her shorts and wore a thin, lacy bra that revealed almost as much as it covered.

"See? Not so bad, is it?" She grinned at me as she buttoned up her fly.

"Why do you have to be difficult?" I asked, sitting down on Katherine's bed, "It's like all you want to do is to get me in trouble with Kath."

"That's so not true, Tom." She winked. "If you were a cheater it wouldn't be near as much fun. Come on, are you really trying to tell me you don't like it?" She struck a pose that pushed out her chest.

"I like a lot of things that are bad for me," I said seriously, and that made her laugh again.

"Ooh, that's a good one, it makes me feel like candy."

I groaned and hid my face in my hands.

"Uh uh, Tommy, you have to watch, that was our deal."

I looked up again and she was pulling a t-shirt out of a drawer, "The deal was that I face you like a real person."

"Real people get dressed every day." She shrugged into her shirt, "Some of us are more entertained by it than others."

The points of light that manifested when I ran into Gloria had never completely gone, but they were brightening again, swarming as Penny slipped her feet into a pair of sandals.

"There," I said, "you had your fun. Katherine is waiting."

"Are you asking me to leave my own room?"

"No."

"Because that makes me think you're up to something, and I don't know if I can let a suspicious boy stay here unattended." She pulled open a drawer in her desk. "There's no telling what you might find." Her hand disappeared inside, and a loud buzzing began within, something vibrating on the wood. I wanted to beat my head against a wall, but there wasn't one close enough.

She laughed openly and shut the drawer again, "Okay, Tom, I'm done with you. I don't think there's any part left that isn't blushing. Unless you want to show me otherwise."

"Penny!" I almost shouted, annoyed and frustrated.

She picked up a bag and swung it over her shoulder. "Sorry to leave you hanging like this, tiger," she sighed with mock sympathy, "but I'm already late to class."

I watched her approach the door, taking her time, and working her hips like a model on a runway. Her narrow frame and long limbs made me think of a spider. A hyper-sexualized, tantalizing spider.

"Yes," I told her.

She hesitated in the doorway, "Yes what?"

"Those shorts are too revealing for class."

She looked behind her, eyes cast down as if checking herself out, and grinned diabolically.

"Good."

Then she was gone, and I fell back on Katherine's bed, trying hard to imagine what being set on fire would feel like.

Katherine's pink and teal sports bag was in the bottom of her closet like she said, and I started filling it, beginning with specific requests like underwear, socks, casual and workout clothes, and a selection of feminine products from her little nightstand, then added whatever else would fit as per her instruction. At the bottom of one of her drawers, a pink lacy thing caught my attention, and without thinking I held it up. It was a set of slinky babydoll lingerie with the tags still attached.

I stuffed it back into the drawer. Penny had been wrong, there were still parts of me that hadn't been flushed with embarrassment because that discovery finished me off. I rushed to complete the work I'd started and left the room in haste with an image of Katherine in pink lace flashing like a neon beacon in my imagination.

My car grumbled back to life in protest, producing a small blue cloud and a sound like an entire herd of buffalo flatulating at once, but it seemed to run steady once I kicked it into gear.

The lot at Pathway was packed and I had to compete for a space, which was bad enough, but it also meant there were a lot of people inside and a lot of opportunity for accidents. The anxiety that had been building since leaving my apartment was different from my years dealing with faulty chemistry. I could manage irrational fear, but the ability to clearly forecast the consequences of a dangerous situation was new and terrifying.

It was as crowded inside as the lot suggested, but I managed to distance myself from other shoppers. As I pushed my cart past canned fruit, however, a thuggish-looking bearded man in a black baseball cap banged into it and shot a threatening look. I gave him an apologetic grin and hurried away, wondering if his disposition was my fault or something else entirely. The distinction was important. If nineteen men could pass me and only the twentieth had an outward reaction, it supported Katherine's claim that the effects were subjective, that she retained her full sense of self, and the only change, apart from chemical dependence, was a radical shift in priorities.

A professional looking brunette in a brown business dress startled me out of my head when she brushed past and stumbled to the floor, cursing quietly.

"Are you okay ma'am?" I asked, unsure what to do.

"Fine," she muttered. "Can you help me up? This is awkward in heels." Her hand went out and I nearly took it.

"I'm sorry," I said, falling back on the excuse I used with Kennedy, "I've been with a sick friend and don't want to pass it on. Here, grab on to my basket"

She did, and I held it firmly while she used it to pull herself to her feet. "Thanks. I'm usually not that clumsy."

"Don't worry about it, we've all been there."

"I'm Laura," She said in introduction, putting her hand out again to shake, but withdrawing it immediately.

"Tom," I offered with a nod, "pleased to meet you."

"It's good to see chivalry isn't completely dead." She brushed off her skirt. "I'd invite you to coffee as thanks, but I'm on my way into the office."

"I'm in a hurry too," I replied. "I'm glad you're okay." She returned a coy smile but made no move to leave and I felt an immediate need to depart. "Have a good day."

"You too," she returned, and brushed me again when she passed, though she had at least two feet of extra space on her other side. My nerves tightened once more.

At the checkout counter, a man in a dress shirt and a red power-tie stood behind me with his basket on the floor between us, kicking it forward with the toe of his patent leather shoe as the line moved. He spoke heatedly with someone on his phone, and while we waited, his volume increased steadily, drawing uncomfortable attention. He gave the basket an extra hard kick, scattering its contents, and swore loudly for several seconds. I stooped to pick up the items that had rolled out of his reach.

"Leave it!" He said angrily.

"Just trying to help," I said and went for one last can of olives.

"I said leave it!" He shouted and grabbed my bare forearm. The language that went through my mind put his tirade to shame.

The sparks returned again, but they were far more chaotic then I'd ever seen them, like embers bursting from a campfire when you stir the coals. He let go as if I'd burned him and dropped his phone. My attention had been so focused on him that I hadn't noticed the bearded man from the canned fruit aisle coming up behind us both.

Power tie collided with the trucker's legs and jumped to his feet, whirling on the bigger man with more curses. I was trapped between a shelf full of chocolate bars and a rack of magazines that left me with no retreat. The couple in front of me scrambled to collect their bags and leave.

The first punch came from power tie, which, considering six inches and at least a hundred pounds of disadvantage, told me his rational mind was not in control. The two men collapsed into a brawling tangle of feet, fists, and swearing that required the combined efforts of the store manager, several stock boys, and a couple of onlookers to break up.

I hastily emptied my cart onto the belt as the two men were being restrained, trying to stay well away from the gathering crowd. Flashes only I could see burst around them like lightning in a thundercloud.

I was grateful that the person checking out my groceries was a woman. My influence seemed to keep her focused on me and she rang me up with only hints of mild curiosity spared for the brawl. Before she was done, fighting broke out anew. A skinny stock boy hung from the trucker's back and a middle-aged man with a green apron had power tie in a headlock. Fortunately, the fight's momentum carried it away from the registers.

It felt like an eternity before the clerk tore off the receipt, scribbled something on it, and held it out to me with a wink, then stuffed it into one of the bags when I declined to take it from her. I moved with haste, carrying two bulging sacks back to my vehicle as a police cruiser pulled up to the front doors.

The Ford's engine turned over lazily, so I wiggled the key and tried again, giving the gas a pump. It wheezed at me, but reluctantly engaged and I left the parking lot as quickly as I dared.

Coping with intense stress as a normal, healthy, adult man, without the aid of mind-altering drugs, left a lot to be desired. I'd spent so much of my life feeling things out of order, compensating with tricks, or muddying the waters with medication, that I didn't have an intellectual response to adversity. I was too disciplined to let my feelings take control and lacked the experience to act decisively. I might not have Katherine's gift for introspection, but it was hard to miss after seizing up all morning.

I wanted to get back to the apartment and hide from the world for a while, vent to my girlfriend while she was dressed in something less distracting than one of my shirts, but I had another important task to complete. I forced myself to drive across town, and pulled into the parking lot of Midway Attic fifteen minutes later. My car shimmied violently as it powered down. I clearly couldn't put off taking it to a mechanic any longer, but that trip would have to wait.

The same attendant stood at the counter reading a magazine when I entered, but she was wearing baggy denim overalls and a bright yellow t-shirt instead of her uniform, and her hair was piled into a messy bun. She looked up and smiled as if greeting a long-lost friend, and I hoped it was just her quirky personality.

"Oh, hi Tom." She closed her magazine quickly and tucked it away. She looked younger in her casual clothes, maybe nineteen or twenty.

"Good morning," I answered, "Becca, right?"

She nodded vigorously, then pushed up her oversized glasses. "Can I help with something? I just came in because Brenda called and needed to take the morning off. Snazzy, that's her Shih Tzu, had a problem with her rectum and she's taking her to the vet." She appeared to have no control over which words came out, or how quickly. Worse, she seemed suddenly aware that she had overshared and looked mortified.

"Do you have a dolly I can use to take something to my car?" I asked politely, pretending not to notice.

"Oh! Yes, one second." She skipped off to the back energetically, and I heard the clanking of metal and a rhythmic thunk, thunk, thunk as she returned with a trolley cart. "Is this okay? There's a hand truck back there but it's got a loose wheel, worse than this one. We have four more, but I don't know where those are. It's not my normal shift. Maybe Brenda knows."

Her volume and speed died off at the end as she caught herself. "I'm sorry," she said, her hands fidgeting in front of her, "I talk when I'm nervous."

"Why are you nervous?"

"I'm not, I just... is this okay?" she awkwardly avoided the question. The cart looked just about big enough to carry the trunk if I put it on sideways, so I nodded and she rewarded me with a smile, then added, "Let me get the door for you."

She fished the overlarge keyring out of a pocket, then put it back and blushed. "It's unlocked," she said, and opened the door for me anyway.

Back in the locker, I took the time to bind the chest securely in its tarp. Miss Gold had been upset at the less than perfect care I'd given to the other artifacts and I didn't want to endure her glare again. It was heavier than I expected, and I struggled to load it up. After fifteen minutes of groaning and sweating I heaved the cart down the hall, its defective wheel trying to pull it to the right, and barely squeezed it through the glass door and into the office.

"Wow," Becca said, running around the counter again, "do you need some help?"

"No," I began, but that was a lie and I was honestly grateful for her offer. "Actually yeah, if you could help me get this into my trunk, I'd appreciate it."

Becca smiled with her whole face when I accepted her offer. "Why don't you back up to the door, so we don't have to push it so far?"

I nodded, "Good idea," I said, her enthusiasm rubbing off on me, "I'll be right back."

It took several attempts to wake up my poor car and when I shifted into reverse it started whining and didn't stop until I hit the brake again just a couple yards from the doors. I put it in park and Becca waved at me from inside as I exited the vehicle. She made me feel more relaxed than I'd been all day.

I left the engine running with the parking brake on while I popped the trunk and opened the glass door. I didn't see any catches or levers that would hold it open, so I looked around for something I could jam under the edge. While my head was down Becca grunted against the weight on her own, but she must have been stronger than she looked because I heard the rhythmic clunk of the cart's wheel when it began to move. I spied a flat rock in the landscaping to the right of the entrance and shoved it under the door's metal frame, kicking it with my toe for good measure. Satisfied that it would hold, I stood to help.

She'd pushed the cart partially onto the shallow ramp where hand trucks and dollies wouldn't have to contend with a curb, but the weight had begun pulling it forward on its own.

"NO!" she yelled as I stood, registering but not processing the danger. "No no no nonononono!" Her arms and legs strained against the cart, but she didn't have the mass to anchor it. Before I could reach her, she lost her grip and fell onto her backside as the cart slammed into the back of my Ford.

Both hands lept to her mouth in alarm, her eyes saucers behind those large lenses, and the color had drained from her skin. While I hoped and prayed that the trunk hadn't been damaged, I wasn't worried about my car. A little dent wouldn't cost me an ounce of prestige. I started laughing and turned to reassure her that I wasn't upset.

She let her hands drop slowly, relief spreading across her face and the corners of her mouth just beginning to hint at a grin when she gasped and pointed through the doorway.

The parking brake must have disengaged with the impact, because both the cart and the car were rolling into the lot. I reflexively grabbed the trolley and heaved backward. A second later, Becca rushed to join me, placing her hand over mine as we strained to stop the cart's inertia, but my car continued to pick up speed, crossed the lot, and crunched into the concrete base of Midway Attic's highway sign.

It sat still for a second, then something beneath the hood clanked loudly and the whole thing shook like a wet dog, dislodging the rear bumper. A tremendous backfire echoed across the pavement, then it belched a thick cloud of blue smoke from the tailpipe and died.