She stepped into her apartment, piled her Christmas gifts on the kitchen counter, and collapsed onto the couch. A few minutes later, she heard a knock at her door.
She sighed and trudged back across the room. In the hallway she found an unfamiliar woman with olive skin and shoulder-length brown hair. She was dressed in a green army jacket and cargo pants, she had a black messenger bag slung over her shoulder, and she was floating six inches off the floor.
“Hi,” she said brightly. “I’m with Kincaid Delivery Service. I’ve got a package here for Angela Osbourne. Are you her?”
“Uh, yeah,” Angela said. “Isn’t it a little late to be making deliveries? And also a holiday?”
“This is a special run, favor for a friend,” the woman said. “Sign here.”
She held out a PDA and a stylus.
“Who’s this package from, anyway?” Angela asked as she scribbled her name onto the screen.
“Leigh Tyrrell,” the courier said. “She insisted that I give you this personally.”
She handed Angela a small, white envelope. There was no name or address written on it, just the words “Look up.” Almost reflexively, Angela’s eyes darted to the woman’s face. They stared at each other for a moment, images of coworkers and customers flowing into Angela’s head.
“Well, I should be off,” the woman said. “Cheers.”
She floated down the hall and disappeared into the stairwell. Angela stood in the doorway for a long while, staring down at the envelope in her hands. She opened it and found a Christmas card depicting Santa Claus riding his sleigh through the air. Inside, just four words:
“Have a nice flight.”
Before she even realized it, Angela was drifting toward the ceiling, her feet dangling in midair. She flailed madly, like a drowning victim, and eventually managed to bring herself to a stop.