Peter stood as still as he could manage as the woman who called herself an angel--<em>his </em>angel!--spoke her piece, and smiled sweetly. Her smile was so beautiful, for a moment he thought maybe she could be an angel. But she was obviously just a very disturbed, and possibly deranged, person who'd probably gotten lost on her way to the hospital. And the other fellow, why, he was probably just her, her brother or nurse, or something, sure. Of course she wasn't dressed like he'd expect a madwoman to dress, but he'd never really met any madwomen, or mad people in general, so he decided he probably wasn't the expert to consult on the matter.<br/><br/>He raised his hand to interject a comment, but before he could speak the other fellow sat down and crossed his legs.<br/><br/>In mid-air.<br/><br/>Peter's eyes widened in disbelief as he watched the man float--<strong>float</strong>!--across the room to sit beside the woman. He smiled, a cold, cruel slash across his mouth filled with, dear God, were those teeth? They couldn't be, they're like sharks' teeth, no man has teeth like that. He launched into his own spiel, and Peter could only stand on trembling legs, shaking his head in denial.<br/><br/>'Oh, God, it really happened, I've actually lost my mind, I just woke up one day and<strong>BOOM</strong>, I went crazy, that's what they'll say, stupid fake family history, I'll bet it's actually rife with psychopaths, schizophrenia and suicide and mass murderers and car salesmen, that's who I'm really related to, I'm gonna spend the rest of my life sucking down thorazine in a padded cell, OK, OK, hang on, maybe this won't be so bad, I'm sure Stacy won't want to spend the rest of her life with a loony tune, I've been looking for a way to break up with her for weeks, and maybe I can get my anti-psychotics in grape flavor,<em>WHAT AM I SAYING</em>I'm going nuts and thinking about breaking up with my girlfriend, I<span class="bbc_u">must </span>be insane!'<br/><br/>When the floating man was finished, Peter bowed his head and counted to 30. It hadn't worked yet, but maybe he just wasn't counting high enough.<br/><br/>28, 29, 30....Nope. Still there.<br/><br/>Finally he inhaled, a long, slow, steady breath, and turned to each of them.<br/><br/>"Um, OK. I'm going to go downstairs now, and I'm going to have a nice, relaxing bowl of cereal. And then, I'm going to call either the police, or the best psychotherapist I can find in the yellow pages. I haven't decided which yet. Goodbye."<br/><br/>And with that, he turned away and walked very calmly downstairs, white knuckles clutching at the railing, his eyes wide and unblinking.