I clearly had crash-landed in some kid’s sandbox. The force of the fall had obviously torn my clothes from me. I was naked and covered in blood as I climbed my way up the side of what must have been the impact hole. When I got to the top, I saw the ubiquitous Alex. How does he do that?

Alex, I coughed, my throat was full of sand. I must have landed with my mouth open. What the fuck is going on?

Alternative cancer therapy, he replied, looking strangely calm, as though my crawling around naked in a sandbox is commonplace.

What? The throw-Alberta-from-a-burning-airplane therapy? My eyes are stinging.

Something like that. Listen, Alberta?

Alex?

Back you go. You’re not ready yet.

Not ready yet?

You’re not done.

Bonk bonk!

I see stars. I step into them. I fall. I miss the earth.

I am flying.