Chapter Three
Jeanette Applebelle, erstwhile this and that, jack of all erstwhiles perhaps, is having an issue with the sealant in her favorite portable seeing conveyance, in common parlance, a window. Quite simply, at least four of the mullioned panes are leaking, compromising Jeanette’s view of her surrounding environment and her general comfort. These glass dresses, as they are sometimes referred to, were invented back in the 19th century by the man who patented the trendy Claude glass, but they had only begun to be seen on the streets during the Ashen Days of 2106-08, two whole years when much of the atmosphere, charred as it had become due to global warming, had descended upon the populace in black sooty bits, destroying clothing, among other essential items, apart from the planet repellent zoot suits, and making it almost impossible to breathe.

The government after months of costly study had finally settled on a solution: window wear. Jeanette, courtesy of her position as a window wear model, had more glass dresses than anyone she knew. But that didn’t make her immune to leakages or worse, the occasional breakage, as had happened to her sexy gliding two piece. And when this occured, she had no choice but to deal with the often-grouchy Fragility Experts at Window World. So, putting down the lightly buttered croissant she’d been nibbling on and licking her fingers, Jeanette picked up the laser phone.

Chapter Four
Ray knew he was never going to make it to Walla Walla, and he knew he would always have to make his own mojitos (hold the mint leaves, the lime and for God’s sake, hold the the club soda and throw in some Coca-Cola). In fact, he was absolutely certain of this. He knew because he was now staring at a brightly painted blue door that had appeared in his office immediately to the left of his Ikea desk (fake Canadian maple – The Bjorg). There was a sign on the door and it didn’t exactly say last exit to Walla Walla. It said “This way to the thirteenth century.” And the door had opened slightly, thereby robbing him of his free will. The decision had already been made. He wondered vaguely about vaccinations, head lice and tooth decay, but the smell of damp peat and moist air was more than he could resist. The ocean breeze soaked his pores. His face began to breathe. Ray looked around his shabby office, kissed the picture of Muttcakes, donned his favourite greenish Tilley hat and umbrella, and stepped through the door. Ray had the brief sensation of falling.

Chapter Five
Jeanette saw him go by. She caught a glimpse of him in the Claude glass and dropped the phone immediately, stunned, as she was, by his sparkling zoot suit. He was heading back in time and she wanted to follow him — at least as far as glassless clothes. The blue door appeared. She reached for its knob with her greasy hands and promptly slipped through. In doing so she thought she heard the sound of glass shattering.