Don’t think about it. Just navigate as if you’re on a solid substance through the air. Don’t think about how thin it is or if you could fall. Just walk, glide, pretend you’re on a skateboard, if you had to put one foot in front of the other, keep balancing with your hands if you must, and holding yourself high, perfect posture, like a ballerina running across a stage. Or if you need to, crouch down for a moment to get up to speed.

The orange vector became like a runway for her, as if she was a model stepping downstairs, except it was flat and slanted and kind of like a skatepark or a perfectly powdered mountain slope.

She looked down at herself, not below, trying not to look below, and was surprised she was wearing what appeared to be a flowy skirt, cut like ribbons, so she could actually dance, and white satin ballet shoes that were tied in perfect crosses up her leg, almost like toe shoes, except they were soft, malleable, so she could actually slide, point one foot up and down in front of her and glide, her arms now out almost floating in the air for balance in a perfect ballerina pose. She had to be imagining it. And then there was light above her, like a spotlight or was it a skylight? She could see the moon above brilliantly outlined against a stream of perfectly white falling snow.

The vector ended and, hesitatingly, she stepped, as there wasn’t any other choice, onto what felt like a wood floor. She looked down at her feet and there were her favorite sneakers, the ones that were a bit like ballet shoes themselves. And her black jeans. In front of her was a doorway that looked oddly familiar, strangely like the doorway to the hotel. She could see through the windows on either side that there was snow falling and collecting on the ground. She pulled the door open and ran outside, down the steps, and on to the sidewalk. And she looked to the right, down the street, nothing. But when she looked to the left, she saw a boy from the back whose image looked a lot like Max, walking down the street with his arms outstretched, and watched as a carriage stopped for him and after a moment, he stepped up to the front of the carriage next to the driver.

“No, wait, Maxxx!” she screamed out to him.

And the only answer was the snow falling softly down around her and the distant hoofbeats and wheels turning on cobblestones as the carriage sped briskly away down the London street.