In the purple-red twilight of the big city I stood atop a building. Black flakes of snow were falling from the sky. Like they'd be falling from anywhere else. A man was walking through the air. When he spotted me, he beckoned for me to join him like Jesus did to Peter. With lots of hesitation I eventually stepped over the ledge and found something solid. Each step elicited a brief, violet dweomer around my feet.

We walked. We talked. The guy told me how he needed to walk to Africa to get his wife. I told him about how I'm so morbidly obese and bemoaned my declining health. He told me that we were able to walk through the air because of our love for animals. The love creates a magnetic field that powers the field. According to him, we were invisible to everyone else. We sank down to the ground to inspect a cat and her newborn kittens in a cardboard box. When she noticed us, we rose back to our previous height.

By now he had forgotten about his African odyssey and his wife. Now he was telling me about how we needed to get to Coney Island. I kept mishearing Coney Island as Cheyenne. The snow had stopped and we wandered into a building trying to find a way to the subway.