text: Brightly clothed bodies swirl through Leila’s vision, all loud music and swinging hips. With her hands in the air, she moves to the beat, dancing through the crowd. Her face is pink from the stuffy room and too many free drinks. She loves the free feeling that comes with a night out. It’s all syrupy thoughts and sultry eye contact. A blue spotlight swings overhead, flashing over her eyes. When they focus a young man is standing before her, watching intently. Leila smiles and sways with him. She can’t see his face well in the dim club lighting, but every once in a while that blue spotlight comes back and she can make out a wide nose and easy grin. Her smile back is laden with alcohol. He leans over her head, hot breath fanning across her neck, and Leila shivers despite the pressing heat of the crowd. His lips move against her skin. “In 90 seconds, this place will explode.” Leila blinks. Her mind malfunctions, not at all prepared to hear words she wasn’t expecting. It takes her too long to finally make sense of them, and when she does he’s already talking again. He’s pulled back an inch to look into her eyes, close enough still that she can hear him over the music. “See those stairs behind you? Go down them and out the door. It’ll take you into a back alley. From there follow the signs.” “What are you talking about?” He shakes his head sympathetically. “I can’t explain. Just do it.” Then he’s pulling away, retreating into the crowd. Leila scrambles to grab his arm but her reflexes are too impaired. She curses under her breath. “Wait!” She calls out after him. “What is this? What’s going on?” The blue light streaks over her eyes and she squints against it. When her eyes adjust the man is gone. She looks around desperately, feeling woozy from her brain trying to work through a haze of liquor. The rest of the club is the same as it was before. Sweaty bodies bump into her and splash sticky drinks onto the already nasty floor. She’s a frozen anchor in the sea of dancers. Then there’s a blinding flash of light that illuminates the dance floor and a boom so loud it’s almost silent. Around her, people scream and swarm toward the exit. That blue spotlight dangles and falls from the ceiling. Leila stumbles, her ears are ringing, and she can barely remember the man’s advice. She shoves through the crowd and pushes toward the back door he’d pointed out. It strikes her as curious that no one else is using it. Her ears rumble with the collapsing of the club’s walls. Bits of debris bite into her skin. She runs down the short set of grimy stairs and shoulders the rusty door open. She stumbles out into the alley, lit by a single flickering streetlamp. The door swings shut behind her and the noise of destruction suddenly falls away. Leila breathes heavily, sends a glance over her shoulder, then examines the alley she’s been deposited into. She finds her first clue in the form of a water-stained poster of a local band tacked to a bulletin board. The logo is a bright yellow curled arrow pointing to the left. Leila runs down the length of the alley and is met with a crooked street sign that says “STAY LEFT.” She follows a jagged path of spray paint and peeling stickers to a door on the back of a closed café. Her hand hesitates on the handle, unsure if she should go in or not. She takes a deep breath, tightens her grip, and steps through the door only to find herself back in the club. The club that just exploded, except it’s not exploding anymore. Everything is exactly the same as it was before the man approached her. Leila looks around rapidly, but nothing strange happens and she heads home soon after. There’s nothing on the news the next day of any such event. Two weeks later Leila has written the whole experience down as a drunken hallucination. She’s at the neighborhood pool tanning on one of the lounge chairs. It smells like sunscreen and chlorine and there’s not a cloud in the sky. It’s the middle of summer and the kids out of school are splashing and screaming while she closes her eyes and pretends to ignore them. The heat kisses her skin and life is good. Someone plunks down in the lounge chair next to hers and she peeks an eye open, then chokes on her own spit and has to sit up quickly and cough violently before she can address him. It’s the man from the club, she’s somehow sure of it. In the daytime, she gets a good look at him. His skin is a shade darker than hers, and he has curly brown hair. He smiles with one side of his mouth and raises his eyebrows. “What are you doing here?” Leila whispers. She eyes the other pool-goers nervously. “Getting a tan, obviously.” He leans back in the chair, arms crossed beneath his head. “The club-“ Leila starts. “Was that... real?” “Real as anything.” Smooth muscles bulge in his arms. He sighs happily and lets his eyes drift shut. “But how?” He doesn’t answer, busy taking in the nice day. Leila watches him until his eyes flutter open finally and he says, “I think it’s going to storm.” It’s a ridiculous notion. The sunny sky is a deep blue and clear of any clouds. “You’re crazy.” “When the storm starts, get in your car and go to this location.” He places a torn piece of paper with an address scribbled on it on her thigh. “This is across town.” “Yep.” He slaps his thighs and sits up. “Well, I’m off.” Leila watches him get up and walk away. She has half a mind to follow him, but reasons it won’t do much anyway. She’s about to lay back in her chair and continue tanning when a breeze whips her face. A minute later dark clouds are billowing in, angry and roiling. The first boom of thunder is so loud a kid in the pool shrieks. Lightning streaks across the sky in a jagged branch. The rain doesn’t start as a trickle. One minute it’s not raining, the next it’s a downpour. Lounge chairs go flying into the pool, sinking to the bottom like strange fish. Tree branches snap and twist through the air. Around her people are jogging out of the pool. The metal gate screeches and wet flip-flops slap against the pavement. Leila stands transfixed, rain pouring onto her head and shoulders, until lightning strikes nearby and the thunder shakes her into movement. She climbs into her car, ignoring the wet mark she’s going to make on the leather. Fat rain droplets splatter the windshield. She takes a moment to put the address from the paper into her phone. The ink smeared a little in the rain, but she can still make it out. The drive across town takes her 45 minutes and to a large warehouse. It’s definitely in use- there are trucks and workers all over the place, but she finds the sign easily. A worker’s entrance on the side of the warehouse with a metal sign on it that says “DO ENTER.” The word NOT has been scratched out. Leila sighs and gets out of the car. It’s not raining anymore but her soaked hair drips water down her back. No one pays any attention to her as she walks up to the door, even though she’s still wearing her swimsuit and dripping onto the concrete. There are no puddles besides the ones she leaves on the concrete. She doesn’t waste any time doubting. Already, she’s coming to terms with this weird new reality. She pulls the heavy door open, steps through, and isn’t all that surprised to find she’s somewhere else entirely. It’s a bathroom. A small one, only two stalls. The floors are wet and it smells bad but she catches a whiff of chlorine. She knows before she walks out that it’s the pool bathroom. She stands and stares at the glistening pool and happy kids. The sun bakes her shoulders, and the sky is a bright, clear blue. Leila doesn’t have to wait long after that for another visit. The man knocks on her door three days later. She sort of wants to not answer and when she does, she thinks about slamming it in his face, but he flashes a charming smile and she lets him in despite herself. “Alright,” she says. “What this time?” “Eager, are you?” He looks around her house curiously. Leila takes a moment to glare at him. He pretends he doesn’t notice it. “Are you gonna tell me who the hell you are?” “Nope.” Leila groans. “Fine. Why are you here? You going to tell me there’s a bomb in my house?” “Not this time.” He stuffs his hands in his pockets and leans against the wall. Leila rolls her eyes. The need for information is eating away at her. “Then what’s going to happen? Go on, tell me.” He glances behind her. “I think it already has.” The tang of smoke hits her nostrils. Leila whips around just in time to see the flames climb to the top of her curtains and lick the ceiling. The fire alarms start screaming, the room heating up. She should try to stop it, she knows, but she’s more concerned with the man. He leans forward and shouts to be heard over the alarm. “Run down the block. Find house 3382.” He steps aside for her to leave, and she does, sending only a cursory look back at him before running down the sidewalk. The house is further than he alluded. Her lungs ache and her calves are tired, but she finds the house. There’s no signs or stickers, but there is a chalk drawing in the driveway. A child’s picture of a door with a swirl inside of it. Leila steps around it and walks up to the front door. She debates knocking but decides against it. Holding her breath she slowly opens it and steps through. She expects to be back in her home or somewhere else entirely, but she’s not. She’s in the house she entered, which is supposed to be the normal thing, but in this case it’s not. Just when she’s getting used to the pattern it skitters away from her. Footsteps ring on the hardwood and before Leila can worry about explaining herself the young man steps into the front room with her. “Good, you made it.” Leila narrows her eyes. “How- What is this?” He steps slowly closer. His shoulders straighten and he puts on his best customer service voice. “Thank you, Leila Walker, for your patience and cooperation. You have successfully completed your Anomaly Placement Identification. We’ve found where you belong and are now prepared to return you to the correct universe.” “What?” Leila fights not to let her jaw drop. “When you’re ready, step through this door.” He gestures to a closet door to the left of her. “Anomaly huh?” He gives her a small smirk. “It was nice meeting you, Leila. Maybe there’s a universe out there where we both belong.” She stares at him, wanting more explanation but not getting any. Multiple universes. Crazy. She looks him up and down. “Can I at least get your name?” This little bit of information is something she can have. His posture relaxes and he flips something that looks like a coin to her. “Mason.” Leila nods and turns the token in her hand. There’s a logo pressed into one side and a series of numbers on the other. “To remember me by,” he says. “Do you say that to all the girls?” He chuckles and shrugs. “Nah. Just you.” “This is goodbye, then?” “Yep,” he says. He puts his hands in his pockets and shrugs one shoulder. “Have a good one, Leila.” Her hand is sweaty on the round doorknob. She squeezes and turns, scrunching her eyes closed in anticipation, and takes a step through the frame. When she opens her eyes she’s back in the club. People are dancing drunkenly all around her and the music washes over her. She tilts her head back and joins them. It’s been a good night, she thinks. But for some reason, she keeps looking over her shoulder at a door at the back of the club. She feels like she’s waiting for something to happen. In her palm she finds a token but can’t remember where it came from.