It’s not disorganisation, it’s divine protection. Don’t look at me like that. He’s still looking at me like that. I grab my laptop from the kitchen counter and take a swig from his coffee. I can understand forgetting lunch but your laptop? Arguably the most important thing you need to take to work, he says. I told you. It’s divine protection, divine intervention, I come back, I grab whatever it is I forgot, and then I’m saved from a car accident or someone with a knife on the corner mugs someone else and not me. He’s frowning. Then he laughs. Okay, not sure how well that theory is going to go over when your boss asks why you’re always late. He gets up from his chair and goes to the kitchen sink, starts washing up his coffee mug. I’m sure she’ll understand. She’s pretty forward-thinking. You’re still here, he says. You’re getting later. I can’t leave until you’ve stopped talking to me. What if I’m supposed to get into this conversation with you to delay me further, saving me from a random attack from a crow or an old man on the tube flashes his penis at someone else instead of me. Okay. I’m not talking anymore. You can go now. Have a good day. He waves. Have a good day too. He’s staring at me. He holds a finger up to his mouth and pretends to zip it shut. He waves at me again. Did you want to say something else? He shakes his head. Points his finger towards the door. No, really, if you want to say something else you should. You can’t interfere. If the universe wants me to be late then I need to be late. You’re already late! He covers his hand with his mouth. I don’t have anything else to say. He takes his hand away. You do. I can tell you do. If you didn’t you wouldn’t have had to zip your mouth shut. He sighs. Well, there is one thing. It’s stupid really, I don’t even want to talk about it but. He leans back against the kitchen sink and crosses his arms. Last night I had this dream. I was at work and there was this terrible, high-pitched sound. I kept looking around the office but no one else seemed bothered by it. But it was there, an undercurrent, like the sound of the cicadas at night, like when we rented that apartment in Spain. God I loved that apartment, I say, putting my laptop back down on the kitchen counter. His eyes flick towards it and then back at me. Anyway, I’ll be quick because you’re already late, but the sound was making me feel sick, you know, just wrong, giving me a headache between my eyes. I got up and went to the kitchen to make myself a coffee, but it was even worse in there. I started to feel like the room was spinning. I had to hold on to the kitchen counter to stabilise myself. Someone came in, it was, you know Kate, with the ugly dog? The one who kisses it on the mouth? I say, sitting down in the chair he was sitting in earlier. It’s still slightly warm. Don’t sit down, you have to go. Anyway, yeah, her, she came in and touched me on the back, I turned around and well, it was a dream obviously, so it was weird, because when she opened her mouth it was just that noise. But louder. I had to cover my ears. It was all-encompassing. My whole body felt weak. I fell to the floor. And I swear I was feeling it in real life too, it was that strong. I think I was shuddering in bed. Yeah, you were, I felt it, I say. I thought you were just cold. I pulled the blanket over you. You did? He steps closer to me and puts his hands on the kitchen counter. Suddenly the noise stopped. I’m lying on the kitchen floor of the office. Kate is standing above me. She leans over and speaks, this time words come out. She says, you shouldn’t be here today. My ears are still ringing, I’m not a hundred percent sure what she’s said at first and she seems to know without me saying, so she repeats it. You shouldn’t be here today. And she turns and leaves the kitchen. And the kettle is boiling and I’ve overfilled it so water is coming out of the top, spilling on the counter. I get up and pour a coffee, but my hands are shaking and that spills everywhere too. Everything feels so wrong, and at that moment I realise I am dreaming, you know when that happens? And I feel a sense of relief but also a sense of panic because I know that I’m dreaming but I can’t get out of it. I can’t wake up. And I’m not really sure if I should go back out into the office and sit at my desk, or if I should wait in here and see if I wake up, but I feel stressed and I keep staring at the door like someone is going to come in and I don’t want anyone to come in, I don’t want to meet anymore dream co-workers, the real-life ones are bad enough. I laugh. He doesn’t. And then the lights go off. In the kitchen. I press the switch but they don’t come back on. It’s pitch black. And the worst part is, I can hear people in the hallway. It’s dark out there too. But I can hear people, shuffling around. Whispered voices. I don’t want to go out there. I keep saying wake up, wake up, but I don’t. I just stand in the kitchen, in the dark, listening to the voices. Sometimes I catch what they’re saying and they're talking about me. He needs to leave. He shouldn’t be here. And I feel this tightness in my chest and my ears are still ringing and I wait there for what feels like hours, and I think was literally hours. I finally woke up to your alarm. But I haven’t really been asleep. I’m exhausted. Wow, I say. I let my bag drop off my shoulder and fall to the ground. What are you doing? You need to go. No, obviously not. Neither of us are going to work today. The universe has spoken. Dream Kate told you so. No, no. He says. It’s just a silly dream. Of course I’m going to work. What are you talking about! It sounds to me like you slipped into some liminal space where the universe is trying to tell you to not go into work today. Let's call in sick, get back into bed, watch a movie. Any you have in mind? No, he says. Yes, I say. We’re not going to work today, in fact, maybe we shouldn’t leave the house at all. He shakes his head. No, we can’t live our lives like this. Like what? In tune with the universe? Perfectly aligned with fate? I couldn’t think of a better way to live our lives. He smiles. We both laugh. I do need more sleep. I suppose I wouldn’t be very productive today. Maybe a sick day wouldn’t be so bad. Whatever you need to tell yourself, I say. But the universe has spoken and we shall listen. Okay, but we can’t make this a habit. He’s taking off his shoes. We can’t let ourselves be ruled by paranoia, never leaving the house because of a stupid dream or a theory that if we go outside then a sinkhole will open up in the street and suck us in. No, no, of course not, I say. I’m taking off my shoes now too. And my jacket. And the hard thing with all of this is, we’ll never know, he says. We’ll never know what? We’ll never know if we’re right, if we’ve been saved from something. Hmm. Nah. I think we’ll know, I say.