Pool

Peering over the edge, Jacob strained to see it. Everyone else had turned up after he had, but they’d somehow managed to eclipse his view.

“For fuck’s sake,” he muttered. “This happens twice a month and these oxygen thieves always do the same thing.”

A while back he’d concluded that shouting was pointless — so was waving, jumping up and down, or kicking the wall of gormless bystanders in front of him.

“Senseless,” he hissed through clenched teeth. “These drones are completely fucking senseless.”

One bloke was filming the pool with a tablet the size of a chopping board. Another stood motionless, mouth agape, licking a vape like it owed him money.

Then it came — a blue cloud began to billow from the pool. Within seconds it had swallowed everything: the onlookers, the chemical fruit-stink hanging in the air, the muttered small talk. Silence.

Jacob coughed, slapped a hand over his mouth, and reached out. Nothing. They were gone.

He patted himself down. Still there. Still real. Carefully, he placed one foot on an outcrop of stone at the pool’s steep edge and hoisted himself up onto the ledge surrounding it.

A voice whispered.

He froze. Focused. The shimmer in the centre of the pool began to clear as the mist drew back.

And there, standing like an exhale from another dimension, was someone he hadn’t seen in over a year.

“Holy fuck,” Jacob whispered. “It’s Callum.”