2 002

The headlights of Lena's car shone straight into the living room, forcing me to turn away from their high beam glare. I motioned to her to turn them off, but as usual she was in her own world, so I stood up and stomped over to yank the curtains closed. I finished scooping my dinner into my mouth and hurried to wash my dishes so she couldn't lump hers on me later. By the time I heard her turn off her car engine and come in, I had finished the washing and packed away the leftovers. I didn't plate any up for her, in a fit of useless spite.

"Hey," I called out nonchalantly from the couch.

"Hey," she replied, ending our traditional evening greetings.

I didn't know what she did for those ten minutes sitting in her car on our driveway, but I'd gotten used to it by now and didn't ask. We weren't particularly close. We'd ended up as housemates due to an odd series of accidents, coincidences and shared contacts, and although it suited both of us to keep the arrangement, we weren't exactly compatible for cohabitation. I liked to have my own space and belongings; Lena was a space invader. I liked neat boundaries; Lena liked to break boundaries. I liked a shared workload. Lena was such a social butterfly and so ditsy that she frequently forgot about her share of the tasks. She wasn't a bad person, she just got on my nerves and made me feel a little bit used. Still, we'd fallen into a comfortable kind of kinship over the two years we'd been living together. We got over our earlier disagreements and accepted each other as we were, and finally got to a place of mutual respect. Lena mooched off my leftovers regularly, but would pay me back by buying takeout I'd be too stingy to buy for myself. I did an extra share of the housework when Lena forgot, and she'd buy the booze. It grew to be an acceptable balance that occasionally teetered toward hostile tension, but usually tottered straight back to an amiable fondness. At times, usually when Lena had just restocked the bar, we'd sit and drink together and share our deep feelings and thoughts, almost crossing the threshold into best friend territory. The following morning we'd be back to the single word greetings. It was a strange relationship, but we made it work, and to be completely honest, she probably was the closest friend I had.

I'd never been particularly shy, I was just far too picky with friends, and usually found some stupid excuse for not getting close with someone. This friend chewed her nails, another was too far into conspiracy theories, another wore really garish shoes that just put me right off. I had plenty of reasons to avoid Lena, of course, but necessity forced us together and forced me to put up with our differences. Perhaps I'd have had more friends if I was forced to spend more time with people in spite of our differences.

I went to grab a shower while Lena ate her dinner (cold, from the fridge, because she was either too ditsy or too lazy to reheat it) so that she could watch her TV show in peace. She was always watching some tragic reality TV that I couldn't stand, and after a few arguments over the channel, I'd decided to leave her be and just find something else to do for that hour.

I relaxed as the hot water poured down onto my back, and enjoyed a few moments of peace before scrubbing my feet to within an inch of their lives. I felt the tension of the day melting through my muscles, and exfoliated away the stress in my dead skin cells. I washed my hair too, deciding that another day's grease would really start to make me look like some wild beast. When I finally stepped out of the shower, the mirror and window were completely fogged up. I dried and dressed myself quickly then wrapped my towel around my hair like a turban. I turned toward the mirror and froze. Near the centre of the glass, a bright prick of light was shining directly into my eyes. It took me several seconds to regain control of myself. This time though, I didn't feel fear. I was calm, curious. I blinked several times to rule out something wrong with my eyes, then slowly moved around the room to see if the light moved. It stayed perfectly still. I checked every source of light or reflection I could find. I even turned off the ceiling light, but the pinprick of light didn't move from its space on the mirror. Strangely though, it didn't emit any light into the darkened bathroom. It was just a static, shining speck of white in the otherwise dim room. I flicked the lights back on and glared at the spot. I had to admit to myself that I'd ruled out any natural, normal cause for this phenomenon that I could think of. I was half inclined to call Lena in to check it out, but I rejected that idea after imagining her sending pictures of it to all her Snapchat friends. Instead, I decided to try the only thing left. I reached out my hand towards it, but hesitated a few inches away. Whatever this thing was, it was outside of normal, explainable life. I had no clue what it was or what might happen if I touched it. A surge of recklessness pushed my finger toward it anyway, and I gently placed my finger over the speck of light. But there was nothing to feel - at least not at first. There was no physical shape to it. In fact, it seemed as if my finger passed through it. But as I held my fingertip to it, a gradual sense of warmth began to flow across my skin, moving up the finger and into my palm, then edging up my wrist. The warmth was followed by something almost like an electric shock, but without any pain. It was more like a sensation of a tiny explosion, or a transfer of energy. I stood there paralysed by the strangeness of it. I still wasn't afraid, still didn't have any sense of being harmed or in danger. It was simply such an odd thing to experience there, in my bathroom, with my towel still wrapped around my head. I could have been standing there for minutes before the sensation suddenly ended. When I moved my finger, the light was gone. I walked out of the bathroom in a daze, staring at my hand.

"Bea, watch this. This guy is the worst flirt, he's just going around trying to pick up every girl on the show. Watch, watch - he's about to do his hair flick thing. Ohhh, there it is. What a drip."

I sat down next to Lena and made grunting noises in response to her running commentary on the show, but I couldn't stop staring at my hand. It was still tingling with shock, but the warmth was gone, as was the feeling of energy. I had no rational explanation for what had happened, but my logical, investigative brain kept trying to find one. I went round in circles trying to make sense of it with my limited understanding of light, electricity and conduction - surely I'd just gotten a slight electric shock somehow? Eventually I realised that I would wear myself out thinking in circles like that, so I went to bed, muttering a goodnight to Lena, who barely seemed to notice my exit as she continued to comment on the potential lovers' escapades on some balmy tropical beach.

The following morning I slept in and was running late for work, so I didn't have time to think about the previous night's phenomenon. I crunched on some toast while trying to tame my flyaway hair, then dashed out the door with a coffee in a reusable cup. I decided to walk, even though I'd probably end up being a couple of minutes late. I marched up my street, crossed to the next road, then cut into the park. The morning air was crisp and fresh, and began to make me feel more awake. I breathed deeply, enjoying the solitude and the peace. I passed a couple of dog walkers who I saw there regularly, nodding a hello in their direction. Passing people in the overgrown path was always a challenge, with one person usually forced to stand aside in any gap they could find. As I reached the further end of the path where it opened up into the grassed area, I saw another man standing in the park. He was completely unfamiliar to me, but seemed to stare at me as I approached. I smiled at him and muttered a quiet hello, but he didn't say anything. I had the strange sense that I should know who he was, and, despite his borderline creepy staring, that I should like him. He was good looking in a generic, middle aged kind of way, but the way he stared without speaking was disconcerting. Still, I couldn't shake the feeling of being drawn to him. I passed by him, and after twenty or so more paces, glanced back in his direction.

He was still staring after me, his face perfectly expressionless.