Once the sound of my palm against Zoe’s cheek subsided (which, by the way, I apologised (or as she tells it, “grovelled”) for, over and over again, and she said she was cool with it…even though it left a horrid red mark across her face that didn’t fade until the next afternoon), the sudden blue, all-encompassing flash happened again.

This time, Zoe seemed to be aware of the flash, even as she gingerly rubbed at where I slapped her.

We then looked down at London below and around us, and…

…and, everything was now slowed down to a snail’s pace.

Cars drove around a roundabout painfully slow, their headlights’ glare streaking behind them (almost as if they’d been photographed on 1980’s videotape)…

A plane flying above us almost didn’t seem to move at all in the inky darkness of the dark blue sky…

The people on the streets below us took minutes to make a single step…

…and, to be honest, it was all a bit boring.

But the significance of this – and Zoe’s new power – was what was important here.