La woke to a tingling thought

- not quite there -

- memory of a dream -

and shook it away. Grabbing a Coke from the fridge, she slid out the door and (feeling the caffeine shoot to her brain) peeled out of her driveway.

She flipped on the radio.

Monotony. She flipped it off and finished her Coke.

A blue-winged thing flitted by her eye and she jerked the wheel and spun and she was spinning spinning spinning - - -

- she straightened out and cursed. Not. Again.

These not-quite-there things kept pecking at her mind.

It was like a whispered melody. They were calling her name - La la lalalalalala - and she couldn't drive them away.

Just. Ignore.

This is what she told herself.

La parked and tossed her Coke can in the trash as she ambled into the mall. People. She grinned at the crowds. Nothing strange would dare to confront her here, surrounded by all these familiar thing. There was the ice-cream stand, and the jewelry store, and the Barnes & Nobles that always smelled of rich coffee, and

that blue thing again. She batted at the air but it was gone.

Just. Ignore.

A woman glanced at her and looked away. Like La was crazy. Like she was on drugs. Like she was

there. Again. This time La made out pixie features and wings and burning ice white eyes -

no. Not. There.

She entered Barnes & Nobles, almost running. Books. Books were safe. So safe and predictable, and they stayed on the page like they were supposed to.

She plopped onto a couch and picked up a book.

Peter Pan. Safe. Predictable. Children's book.

All children, except one, grow up.

Again. The blue.

Ignore.

La screamed.

She dropped Peter Pan.

She pulled at her hair.

And as she tore tore tore at her scalp and people were running and she was screaming screaming screaming her throat bloody raw, she looked up and

the blue thing.

Faerie.

Oh, lord.

NOT THERE.