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Kalisha and Page walk under the alder tree and find themselves on the paper-strewn streets of Ashdown, the noon sun high overhead.
....And, just like that, they were elsewhere. Soaked, but elsewhere. And the sun was high in the sky. So much for her work day... she would have to invent some creative excuse for her mother, who was probably the source of the many messages that now had her phone buzzing.
(Thankfully, the torrent of water seemed to have spared it. That would have been bad.)
It took a moment for Kalisha to re-orient herself, given the unusual nature of their re-entry, but once she saw which street they were on... “I think we're closer to my apartment, Page. Let's go. I'll loan you some clothes.”
She would shove Page's clothes in the washing machine with her own, but they would need something to keep warm in the meantime. Kalisha had a feeling they would not wish to go home just yet... or perhaps it was her hoping that Page would stay, at least long enough so that she could calm down.
Poor Quixote would need drying, first of all. If her hair dryer could get though her mane, Kalisha assumed, it would work to dry the poor cat, who got a pet on the head. “Im sorry, sweetheart. You get to meet my hair dryer.”
purplerosesbeauty
