I snort. ‘Shocker, I know. But, like, I feel really at ease with you. It’s weird, but yeah, I feel like we’re meant to be friends too.’
She grins. ‘An unholy union then.’
‘Definitely.’ A long bus snakes past as we turn back onto the busy shopping street. ‘So, areyouworking on anything at the minute?’ I ask.
‘A flower mural at a care home.’
I blink. ‘What?’
‘My nan’s been there for a year now. She was an artist and loved nature. She got me into art and used to paint up until…’ She swallows. ‘Up until she couldn’t any more. Dementia’s a bitch. Anyway, the place is super drab and I asked if I could brighten it up.’
My chest flutters. ‘That’s…that’s really beautiful.’
The slightest hint of colour gathers on her cheeks. ‘Yeah, well, I’m a very nice and talented person, Michael.’
‘Oh, no doubt.’
I squint as I notice a flash of sunlight on the street along from the one we’re on.
‘Wow, what’s that?’
‘What?’
‘That light.’
‘What light?’
I point at the shard of light jutting into the sky. ‘Are you serious? Look.’
Meg raises an eyebrow. ‘I have no idea what you’re talking about.’
I laugh and point again. ‘There’s literally a ray of light as wide as…a block of flats shooting into the sky.’
Meg frowns. ‘Are you OK? There’s honestly nothing there.’
These lights. I’ve seen them before…
‘Come on!’ I run to the end of the street, dodging round shoppers and a man on a mobility scooter. ‘Sorry, excuse me!’
‘Michael!’ Meg sprints after me. ‘Wait.’
I turn the corner and across the road up ahead I see a tall building bathed in light. There’s a forecourt in front of it. Brass words above the door and on the façade bear the name ‘Europa’. The windows are twinkling and smoke rises in the air.
I stop. ‘What’s that?’
Meg pulls up beside me, out of breath. ‘Um, OK. So, it’s a thing called a hotel. People rent rooms in exchange for money. Have you—’
‘The smoke! Come on.’
My head throbs as I set off again. As I get closer, I can see the windows flickering between reflected light and darkness.
‘Michael, stop.’
I’m directly opposite now, but the road is too busy to cross. I see the windows aren’t flickering with light. They’re destroyed or left with jagged shards like broken teeth. The panes are warped and twisted, and the forecourt is scattered with broken glass.
I take a step forward as the entire front of the hotel changes. The cream exterior is replaced with grey concrete, its brutalist design coated with soot. The revolving door vanishes, a gaping hole in its place.
My legs are weak and my breath comes out in panicked puffs. The smell of smoke and twisted iron fills my lungs.
