Jerry ran. The platform swayed and moved in impossible, incomprehensible ways around the oblivious commuters. The stairs no closer after each stride than they had been before the last.

Yellow.

A bright yellow, vinyl pocketbook swayed on the arm of a young woman passing in front of him. Jerry grabbed, pulled, willed it free. He swung around and hurled it wildly at Gareth. It missed, of course, passing by Gareth’s beatific smile without so much as making him blink.

The woman screamed.

For a moment the platform was just a platform.

In that brief moment, the space of three running steps, Jerry reached the stairs. His feet suddenly trapped in cold treacle, he nearly fell. Catching the railing, he heaved himself up the first three steps. The treacle weakened. Three more and he could let go of the railing.

Moments later, he burst out into the bright, autumnal sun, sucking in huge, gasping breaths of cool, crisp air.