An unexpected breeze calmly whispered across his face and he could have sworn a soft voice accompanied it. He pulled his hands away. This was no longer the elevator. The sun was drifting red and resigned into the sea, his car was parked sensibly in his driveway and there he was sitting on the front step of his house. He remembered his last thought of having a drink and it felt like he must have done that in spades but that bit wasn’t an active memory.
‘Patterns,’ he said, wondering if one might suddenly become obvious but it didn’t. The creatures of the evening, wondering if he was talking to them, quietened briefly but then turned their little noses up and got back to their stuff. Salvador tried to piece something together from the jumps so far but nothing came to mind. There didn’t seem
