Diana slipped quickly into the dark waves and vanished. It wouldn’t be long, though, before they met again. Bram came to this little crescent of beach every week or so. He had just wiped out after surfing a choppy wave. As he surfaced to gasp for breath, there she was, elbows resting on his board, laughing eyes twinkling with sun and seawater. “Well, there you are.” Bram floated on the other side of his surfboard. “You disappeared, last time. I hoped I’d see you again.”
This was no mere nightmare. I recognized the way of seeing – that crystal-clear, three-dimensional, too-detailed view of things. I knew, too, the very spot. I blocked caller ID on my phone and called 911. Didn’t give my name. How could I explain what I’d seen, how I’d seen it? I told them I didn’t want to get involved; just please, go check on the woman. I began to draw, but drawing was no good. The police would never understand; they would waste time searching for the artist, demanding explanations that I could not begin to give them.
I saw something that looked like a golf ball. It wobbled around the desk lamp, as if studying the light. Just then, an apple bobbed by my hand—without thinking, I reached out, grabbed it, and started to take a bite.
“Stop! You can’t eat Venus.”