I am enveloped in darkness. A door appears out of nowhere, just frame and door. I hear noises coming nearer. There is laughter, there is anger, there is shouting. It starts to envelop me. I rush towards the door, but it goes further. The sounds get louder. I close my eyes, and reach for the handle.

The noises stop.

I am now in the third person. I am falling, with briefcase in hand. I don’t own a briefcase. Descending, my form starts to shift. I am in a suit now-- wait no: I am nude. My suit pulls from my body in black streaks. I am nude now. I spread my arms as far apart as I can, legs too, to try to catch the wind’s resistance.

‘Stop falling.’

A gentle voice whispers, but there is no voice. Was there a voice? My descent slows. Below me is a forest. A group of birds rush through the canopy and come straight at me. I flinch, but they pass through me. My arms are now covered in feathers.

‘Fly.’

I ascend. The voice is back, but is it? My arms-- wings?-- feel light, but my chest feels heavy. I look back, and a black, little salamander is sitting on my back, tongue lopped out of its mouth, beady eyes staring at my soul. I look forward, only to slam into a building. Total darkness once more. I woke up.

I had a dream that I was flying.

Feeling comes back to me as my phone alarm shrills and sweat drips down my brow. I sit up, and a headache finally starts panging through my skull. I look down, and I am still in my business wear. Mostly, at least.

I grab my phone. It still screams at me, so I silence it. 5:30am.

What a mistake it was to stay at Kat’s for that long. Or was it a mistake? There was someone there. Someone shimmering, someone smiling.

‘Wake up.’

I am awake. Who was it that I saw that night? How did I get home? I scroll through my phone for answers, only to be met with a few missed calls and an angry text.

“Message me when you wake up, you dumbass.”

Ah, Kat. Always had a way with words.

“Fuck sorry, i passed out when i got back home. Make it up to u later?”

I toss my phone onto my bed and stand up. I stretch my arms and look out at the balcony. I stare at the balcony for an uncomfortably long time. Was I alone, or did someone bring me home? Kat wouldn’t have been blowing up my phone had she brought me home.

Did I walk home?

I drag my feet to the bathroom. My keys are hung on the wall, not tossed onto the countertop. Did I take my bike to the bar, or did I walk? Door open, pants dropped. I toss aside my clothes and hop into the shower. Cold water streams down my chest as I turn it on. My body wants to retaliate against the sudden iciness, but I stay in place.

If I took my bike, Kat wouldn’t have let me drive home.

I peel off my business ‘mask’ and throw it onto the counter; with my false brown locks removed from my scalp, my true red hair emerges, a mess of short hair tied up into a tiny little tail up top. I pull off the hair tie and bow my head under the water. It’s taking its sweet-ass time to warm up, but I don’t have the time to wait for it to do so. My head feels numb, pulling the headache from me and putting it aside for a minute. Water trickles down my face.

Did I let someone drive me home?

Few squirts of soap into the palm, head thrown back. I slap it into my rat’s nest of hair and roughly massage my scalp with the tips of my fingers. Normally, I remove my wig before sleeping, but this time I completely forgot. That has to be it.

Someone brought me home last night.

I shift my body underneath the water, which is tepid at best. Far better than cold water shocking the hell out of my lower half. Once my body is rinsed, I grab the loose rag that hangs on the bath faucet and push the plunger down. Cold water rushes through it for a moment, and when it starts to warm I turn off the tap. Apply soap to rag, then rag to body. Wash thoroughly.

Who was it that brought me home, and how did they leave my home with the doors all locked? Are the doors all locked? No, they have to be; all of my possessions look to be in check. I don’t have many possessions. Were they all in check? Why can’t I remember what happened at the bar?

Think, think.

Who was at the bar with me last night?

I pull up the plug and turn on the shower once again. The water shocks me for a moment, but it quickly adjusts. Rinse out the hair. Rinse off the body. Do a double lather for the underarms and groin. Rinse. Caress chin. Should I shave? Maybe I should.

Tap’s off, body’s out.

I step onto the bath mat and grab onto my towel, quickly rubbing down my head and dropping down to my shoulders, drying thoroughly from top to bottom. As I do such a methodical task, my mind wanders again. I don’t usually have total blackouts after a drink. Why is this time any different?

Did I get drugged?

Nonsense. I tie the towel along my waist and scoop my wig up with a single hand. As I stare at it, I feel somehow inclined to smell it. Why should I smell it? There’s nothing out of the ordinary about this wig. It’s been tousled around for a bit, sure, but…

I lean in and smell it. I feel moronic doing so: it smells like typical hair gel and…

I sit on that and. There’s something a bit off from it. Sure, it’s bound to smell a bit off, with all the city smells and whatnot, but this is… different. It smells almost fruity, but with a distinct earthy aftertone. Somewhere far more arid than the city that I work in.

Stop smelling the wig and clean it, you dolt.

I grab a tiny black bottle from the edge of the sink and pop it open. I take a quick whiff of it. Yeah, I’m out of my mind. Brushing out the wig, I dig into the depths of my memory to try to remember what the hell went down last night.

Okay, Kat and I gave each other glances, as usual. We laughed it over and she offered me the first drink, on-the-house. Typical Kat. She tells me about her day, the lack of patrons throughout the middle of the day, the sudden rush-hour between lunch and dinner. I get another drink, she asks me how it’s going in the office. Same old, same old. Someone comes in.

Someone comes in.

I take a good look at the wig for any stray hairs, discolorations, or kinks, then look at the underside for the same. Nothing out of the ordinary here. Just a regular-old wig.

I fill the sink basin with water and take out the wig shampoo, a bronze-colored bottle with a leaf on it. Dipping the wig into the water a few times first, I then drain the water and apply a few drops of soap, massaging it gently so as to not break off any fibers. It seems kind of silly to wash your hair and your wig both on the same day, but it’s become second nature to me.

A quick rinse, and then set it aside to dry. I look at my face in the mirror. Brown eyes streaked with red, check. Heavy bags underneath, check. Stubble, check. I take out the toothpaste and brush away that foul aftertaste of morning breath. I waltz around the apartment as I brush, still exhausted from last night. I grab my phone and check for a response from Kat. None just yet.

I sit on my bed, brushing away at my teeth as I try to think of that someone. What did they look like? Apparently, I know what they smell like, but that could just be a random scent my nose decided to throw at me for shits and giggles. I close my eyes and try to picture anything from last night. All I get is total darkness.

I close my eyes even tighter. Floaters start to dance within my field of vision, rimmed with white. The colors start to shift a bit as I keep them tightly shut. White to yellow… yellow to blue... Yellow to blue… Oh yeah, the ID!

I finally got a notification from Kat. “Thank goodness you had me worried there; I thought you got abducted by aliens :P and yes the usual? I’m running low anyways, can you get me something like the last block you got me? Doesn’t have to be exact.”

“Yeah no problem,” I text back. “Do you remember who was at the bar last night?”

I take the phone with me and walk back to the bathroom. A rinse and gargle later, and I get a reply. “U talking the noisy-ass smokers, or the blond?” Smokers… that could fit the bill, but a blond? How descriptive, Kat.

“Idk I can’t remember much of anything last night, can u give me a rundown on both?” I stroke the wig to check its moistness. Not dry enough to style just yet. I check underneath the sink for a clean shirt to wear. It’s clear to me that I need to do laundry today, because the only work shirt I have is a muted blue one on top of several tank tops and tees. My emergency work shirt, of course. I carefully grab it from the top of the stack and shake out a bit of the wrinkles. This will have to work for today.

I place the shirt flat on the counter and grab my towel, thoroughly drying off my legs before dropping it on the floor and grabbing a pair of boxers from the countertop. As I slide them on, I get another notification-- likely, an explanation from Kat.

“Those stupid-ass smokers wouldnt listen to the ‘no smoking’ sign placed outside and i had to personally remove them from the bar. Got to use some of these muscles ;) As for the blond, u freaked out abt their id, remember?”

Oh, so the ID was theirs. Did I really freak out that much about their ID?

“ID freakout, why???” A few seconds later, I get a reply.

“U went nuts cuz u misgendered them.”

Oh, fuck.

“Lookin like a damn fool”

Yeah… that… definitely sounds like me. “Shit,” was all I could message back. I see the dreaded three ‘messaging’ dots and decide to get dressed. Oh boy am I going to get my ear chewed off.

I walk over to the closet and look through my pants, grabbing a brown pair to match the muted blue of the emergency shirt. I drape it over my arm as I decide between a vest or a jacket. The vest would look more casual, but the jacket's what I’m usually wearing… What day is it?

I flinch as I hear another notification tone. I have to check the date, so I cannot outright avoid the onslaught that I’ve just brought on. “I already told u Val, if u misgender just say sorry, dont hyperinflate the severity of it. Ur glad that i didn’t try kickin ur ass cuz if it was someone i knew that u did that shit to i would’ve.” I click out of the message window for a moment to check the calendar.

Yes, the weekend starts after work today.

I click back to Kat. “They were chill + flattered. Took it well 2. Probably cuz they were a foreigner, idk.”

Them being a foreigner makes sense. Then, everything seemed to hit me at once. The ID, the drive home, the kiss on the forehead. I rub my forehead a bit; it feels hot and sore. “Thx Kat I owe u; gotta finish getting ready see u soon”. I send her that final message and place the phone back on the counter. It’s 6:30 already, I’ve got to get ready faster.

No time to shave, so I slip on the brown-and-blue pants/shirt combination and grab a brown vest just to top it off. I finger through my hair, then touch on the wig again, and both still feel a bit wet. I take out the blow dryer and put it on full blast, blowing through my hair with the speed of a racecar pit crew. I quickly spin my hair into a tiny tail up top, yet again, and head for the wig, power dropped considerably.

For the wig, I treat it like a baker icing a cake: gently applying heat as I spin the wig ever so slowly. It just needs to be dry enough to apply to my head and then style, so I do one full rotation and apply it square on my head, pulling it taut. I squirt some of the styling gel onto my fingertips and slick the hair back.

I check the back for any red peeking through, and it looks to be fine. I look around the bathroom for my glasses, and I realise that I didn’t wake up with them on.

Shit.

I walk softly towards my bed, using my feet as a pair of eyes. I can see fine up close, but when things aren’t directly in front of me, objects start to blur together. I stop at my bed, skimming the underside of it with my foot. I feel nothing.

You really forgot to take your glasses off your face before passing out, dumbass?

I keep shuffling my foot on the floor, and when I bend down onto the frame to get a further reach under with my foot, I feel the frames crackle a bit under my grip. I immediately remove the pressure and stagger up, trying to keep my balance. I place the glasses on my face and they... look fine and clear, just a bit crooked.

Wait… these are the glasses I lost around a month ago. Bah, whatever; I’m sure the other pair is somewhere safe. I slowly bend the frame into place. Good enough.

This is the face of a future CEO, allegedly.

Socks and shoes slipped on, and I am right out the door.