Tom was a midlevel advertising executive at a Christmas party with his wife. She was a strong, practical sort of blonde and she wore two inch heels with a blue dress that fell at mid-thigh. The two of them were off by themselves, next to a pillar where they had a good view down Park Avenue.  They’d both made good Christmas bonuses, and he thought he might surprise her with a last-minute trip to the Virgin Islands. He squeezed her palm between his thumb and first two fingers. She put her head against the lapel of his blazer, and Tom went to caress her neck but then decided against it. He knew that he’d hear from her later if he ruined her hair. 

Instead he kissed her on the bridge of her nose and told her he’d be right back. He was going to the bathroom to book the trip from his phone. It was a little away from the party, down a hallway with fine wood floors. He knocked, and when no one responded he went in. But where he expected to step onto white bathroom tile, instead there was only darkness, a strange and absolute nothing. Tom shouted as the door swung shut behind him and he fell headfirst into the black. 

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