It was quite queer, floating was.
Especially in a place where falling is much more appropriate.

You see, floating feels so much different than falling. Floating makes your outsides feel like insides, you feel breathless.
Whereas falling, well, thats not as fun.

I suppose either of them aren’t as bad when they’re happening by themselves, no, thats not bad at all. But for Angela, well, she got the whole package.

For a few minutes she was floating, and she could say it was the best moment of her life, feeling so free and careless, but then gravity decided to start working again, and she began to fall, screaming as loud as possible.

Before she knew it she landed hard and fast onto a concrete floor, every little bone in her back cracking in painful harmony.

“Ah...damn”
She exclaimed, standing up slowly and rubbing her back.
“Where am I?”

She began to look around, finding all different kinds of rare and exotic plants, all while getting a strong sense of Deja vu.

So she looked around some more, searching under tables, picking up potted plants, and then she looked outside.

“M-my old house?!”
She exclaimed
“I-it can’t be..”

Oh but it was.

“T-then this means...I’m in the old greenhouse!”

She sprang up from her spot next to the window and made a B-line towards the front door, but ended up tripping over a potted plant, shattering it.

“Who’s there? I’ll snap your legs!”
A strong accented voice shouted from the other room.

Uh oh.
Angela thought.
I better run.