Floating Staircase (2011)
“I groaned and rolled over onto Jodie’s side of the bed, which was cold in her absence.
“Explain to me,” came Jodie’s voice from some ethereal vortex, “how this happened . . .”
Some stupid, delinquent part of me was not in the bed in our new house but instead suspended in midair over a glistening lake, night having fallen all around me, the moonlight sparking like bursts of electric current on the black waters. Trapped in a freeze-frame, I held my breath while waiting for the icy plunge that wou...ld never come. Jodie’s voice was the disembodied voice of God, shocking me into consciousness.
Weakly, I opened one eye and winced at the daylight pouring in through the part in the curtains. Jodie stood at the foot of the bed holding my pajama pants.
“Morning,” I growled.
“You must have some brilliant explanation for this, I’m sure.” She shook the pajama pants in both hands. “They’re soaking wet. The hallway carpet is wet, too. What gives?”
“Must have been a wet dream.”MoreLess
“Explain to me,” came Jodie’s voice from some ethereal vortex, “how this happened . . .”
Some stupid, delinquent part of me was not in the bed in our new house but instead suspended in midair over a glistening lake, night having fallen all around me, the moonlight sparking like bursts of electric current on the black waters. Trapped in a freeze-frame, I held my breath while waiting for the icy plunge that wou...ld never come. Jodie’s voice was the disembodied voice of God, shocking me into consciousness.
Weakly, I opened one eye and winced at the daylight pouring in through the part in the curtains. Jodie stood at the foot of the bed holding my pajama pants.
“Morning,” I growled.
“You must have some brilliant explanation for this, I’m sure.” She shook the pajama pants in both hands. “They’re soaking wet. The hallway carpet is wet, too. What gives?”
“Must have been a wet dream.”MoreLess
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