“This is a nice one,” Emma said to Nils. She was perusing one of his sketch books.

“Just a little color pencil ditty,” Nils said. “Nothing special.”

“Well, I like it a lot,” Emma said. “It’s nice and light-hearted, but with mystery.”

“Mystery?” Nils questioned.

“Yeah, like whether to go up or down. And what’s that slippery stuff on the stairs?”

“Yeah, but the sign says—”

“Fuck the sign,” said Emma. “I’m portalling in. Maybe some of that lightness will rub off on me. My shoes don’t fit. My top doesn’t fit. My babies don’t fit. I’ve got to get out of myself. Help me up.”

“But you haven’t portalled in a while. Not since—”

Before Nils could compete his warning, Emma was on the other side of the barrier. She eyed the stairs up, hugged her bulging tummy, and took the stairs down. Nils held his breath. Safely at the bottom, Emma peeked around the corner. Then disappeared.

Not quite half an hour later she was back in the chair.

“So what was down there?” Nils asked.

“Nothing,” Emma said, a sly smile crossing her lips. “Nothing of any importance.”