I race down the bustling avenue, bumping into people and apologizing over my shoulder. I'm almost there. I can't be late. I can't be late. Damn it, why does New York have to be so busy?
I look up and see the high rise looming above me, glittering glass and steel. I'm mesmerized for a moment, and of course the slight distraction sends me barreling straight into someone. We both end up on the ground, my bag spilling its contents across the pavement. "I'm sorry, I wasn't looking, I have to get somewhere..." Gathering up my things, I trail off as I take in the dazed look of the boy I collided with. "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine. Sorry." He looks about sixteen, a little older than me. Messy black hair falls over his forehead, bright green eyes peering out from beneath the fringe. I blush and look down at my bag, shoving my belongings back in. He stands up, and holds out a hand to me. I take it and he pulls me up. I brush myself off, and look up once again to see the boy with an odd expression on his face. "Do I...do I know you?" he asks.
"I don't think so." I would definitely remember you, I add silently. He's cute, a bit skater boy-ish. Attractive, in a scruffy kind of way. But I've never seen him before.
Except. As I look at him, something tickles the back of my mind. A sense of familiarity. A blurry image of this boy, laughing, begins to form, but disappears almost at once. I must have imagined it.
I'm so deep in thought, I almost miss it when he sticks out his hand. "I'm Jax."
I shake my head slightly to clear it. "Emily."
"Why were you in such a hurry?" he asks.
"I have an interview," I say quickly. I'm going to an interview for a spot in a prestigious art school, at their downtown showroom. The actual school is in Upper Manhattan. I want so get in so badly it hurts. "I'm going to be late, actually."
"Oh. Okay. Sorry to keep you. Good luck."
"Thanks." I smile at him, and then plunge back in to the crowd. I sprint the last half a block and mount the marble steps to the exhibit building. I turn around and look for Jax, searching for a shock of black hair, but he's disappeared into the crowd.
The showroom is huge. Massive. Colossal. Hundreds of exquisite paintings line the walls, and wonderfully bizzare sculptures and installations take up the middle of the room. Smack dab in the centre of everything, a glass spiral staircase winds up through floors and floors of art.
The interview is supposed to be in one of the offices on the fifteenth floor. I look around for an elevator, but can't find one. It looks like I'm going to have to take the stairs. With a sigh, I hoist my bag up on my shoulder and begin climbing.
The stairs are shallow, curving up and up. I pass floors of art, all amazing pieces.
I've almost reached the sixth floor when I stumble. I tripped over something - but what? There's nothing but smooth glass on the steps.
Suddenly, I pitch forwards. Everything's spinning. What's happening? I look up and gasp. The walls, the staircase, everything is breaking apart. Fractures snake over everything, and blinding white light shines through the cracks. The staircase is shaking, pieces of glass raining down from it. It's going to fall any second. I have to get off. I try to run, but a lightning bolt of pain lances through my brain and I fall to my knees. Shudders wrack my body, vibrations from the steps beneath me. Deafening cracks sound from the glass.
I can't move. Each convulsion of the staircase sends another white-hot spike through my head. I can't run, even as I feel the structure give one last heave and shatter completely.
And I'm falling. I'm plummeting down and down like a skydiver without a parachute. Chunks of glass and steel are all around me. I'm falling into a black abyss, darkness stretching out below me. The radiance that was shining through the cracks in the glass is now spread out above me. The light is fractured through the glass rain. Everything is fractured.
The last thing I know is that it's a beautiful picture.
