|
|
|
|
|
|
|
"All right. Where are you?" |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
D.J. slammed the door of her apartment and stalked through the hallway and into her bedroom. A glance around the room revealed no one hovering in the air. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
"Come on," she shouted, returning to the living room. "You're my delusion, and I want you to materialize right now." |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
"All that shouting, dear. You'll upset the neighbors." |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
The voice came from the kitchen. Three steps later, D.J. found her quarry making soup at the stove. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
The scene pulled D.J. up short. She could see the kettle, steam rising from the simmering broth. She could even smell the soupchicken something. |
|
|
|
|
|