Gray Mist

    She stepped out of her open doorway and the door fell shut behind her.  She was taken aback at the change of scenery.  She stood outside her downtown apartment building, on the same street it had always occupied.  The 2-way road that lay before her was still paved with the cobblestone that she despised.  She preferred smooth roads and mostly stuck to the sidewalks .  To her left the same road was bisected several blocks down by tram tracks.  That was when she realized what was different; she couldn't see the tracks.  In fact, she couldn't see half a block either way.  A cloudy mist hung low in the air.  It was as if all the clouds were hungry for her attention.  She put her hand to her curly hair and felt moist droplets.  She pulled it away and wiped her hand on her jeans.  Walking down the stairs to the sidewalk the sound of her footsteps was barely audible, despite her usual power pounding.  All she heard was a muffled thud.  Standing on the sidewalk, the view from her new vantage point stunned her.  She swiveled her her body all around to drink in the magnitude of the change.  The first thing she noticed was how much of her surroundings was engulfed in the misty, fog cloud.  Some of the buildings around her home were skyscrapers since she lived in the depth of the city.  She felt as if she could touch the top of those buildings now that the sky they scraped could be reached with the raising of her hand.  She knew the higher floors of the buildings presently covered were still there.  They had to be there.  She believed they were there.  She stepped into the middle of the road after she realized there was no traffic, no vehicles at all.  Taking another look at all the buildings around her, she realized that they were all gray.  She couldn't tell if they were made of silver or lead or just painted gray. The uniformity was disorientating.  The lack of color (other than gray) was distressing her.  What happened?  She wondered if the world had changed or if she had changed.  Maybe both. 
         She stood in the middle of the road, kicking at the loose pieces of cobblestone and wishing it actually sounded as violent as the pain it was causing her foot.  Feeling foolish, she stopped kicking.  She could feel pain.  That was something that had not changed, something she could count on.  Where were the people?  She thought about walking down the street to look for other people.  She turned to her right and started a short jog up the street.  With a sudden thought, her muscles arrested in fright and she froze mid step.  Due to her lack of grace, and the fact that the laws of gravity remained intact, she fell sideways like a bike with a broken kickstand.  Her overdramatized yelp made about as much noise as a piece of paper ripping.  This manner of violence hurt more than her toe.  Awkwardly righting herself she frantically ran back to her apartment steps.  She was scared that if she lost sight of her apartment it would disappear forever, into the fog.  She wiped some moisture off her fore arms as she noticed an overall damp feeling sinking into all of her skin.  The pruning of her hands was already happening.  She crossed her arms and back and forth on the sidewalk in front of her apartment.  She realized walking north or south on the street was not a good idea, but she could walk across the street.  She had her reservations about crossing, but halfway there she still had a good view of her front door.  She was hoping the mist was the only thing hindering her sight of other people that could be across the street.  She was feeling very alone - and sad.  If only there was one other person…  Standing on the opposite sidewalk she yelled at the top of her lungs.  She felt the heat on her face and her sore throat from the exertion, but she only heard her voice as loud as an echo from the bottom of a well.  She quickly grew angry, but also inpatient so she pushed the anger down and thought of a new plan.  She decided she could knock on doors.  Turning behind her, she bounded up the  steps to an apartment similar to her own.  Standing before it she realized the building and subsequently the door was gray and metallic just like the other buildings.  She touched the door with her palm in an attempt to discern the exact make up of the grayness.  As she pressed into the door she felt that it was soft and malleable.  She pulled her hand away and watched an imprint of her hand slowly smooth over, becoming uniformed with the rest of the door.  A shiver went through her body.  This was new.  This was the unknown.  This was some crazy shit.  She had know she would go crazy one day.  Today was her crazy day. 
         She sat on the stoop and looked up and down the sidewalk.  She was absently staring up the sidewalk to her left she saw an accumulation of foggy mist, a huge ball.  Keeping her eye on the ball of mist, she returned to the middle of the street in anticipation.  She waited.  When the ball of mist was before her, she slowly moved closer.  Peering into the ball she saw what she had been waiting for ever since she left her apartment.  Men and women, walked together in a group, some with umbrellas others wearing coats.  Together repelling the mist creating a sort of ball shape.  She could tell they were chatting and laughing as they walked along.  They seemed completely oblivious to her and did not acknowledge her, despite her jumping around and yelling at them.  She debated following the misty ball of people, but in her mind it would be in vain.  They could not see or hear her and she also wanted to stay near her home.  She turned to look at the red door of her apartment building and the plants on the stairs she liked to water.  It was gone.  The plant pots were gray, and missing plants.  She squeezed her eyes shut, desperately hoping that her door was still red.  She took a breath, counted to three and opened her eyes to find that it looked exactly like the other doors.  She sprinted up the steps and stopped just short of her door.  She decided to do the same test with the palm of her hand.  She slowly pushed her hand against the door.  The door didn't moving.  She pushed even harder.  It was as if she was touching a normal door.  A normal grey door.  She began pounding the door, each hit as loud as a sneeze.  She felt tears streaming down her cheeks.  She slid down to the ground with her back to the door.  The crying continued until she felt she had run out of tears.  She wanted nothing more than to go inside to curl up in her bed.  She wanted to wake up from what seemed to be an horribly depressing dream.  The isolation was too much.  She stared forward, lost in her thoughts.  Then somehow collecting herself mentally she realized she was staring at the house across the street.  She stared at it for a while, remembering the feel of the metal on her hand and the impression it made.  It could be a way out.  It might hurt.  It could lead to something worse.  She thought of a hundred different reasons why that door was not an option for change.  She grew exhausted from the negativity, and decided it was okay to take a chance and try out the door.  As she walked to the street she noticed the mist had settled lower.  It was bothersome, but she ignored it as if it had always been there.  As she reached the foot of the steps, she sighed and took a long look at the door before her.  Taking step after step, she stopped in front of the door and planted her feet.  She repeated the application of her hand upon the door.  Once again the metal gave way.  She pushed her hand inwards until it disappeared into the gooey gray up to her wrist.  Pulling her hand out, a handprint remained for a few seconds and then the door became uniform metal once again.  Next, she placed both hands on the door and pushed in up to her elbows.  She pulled them out and took a step back.  Scared, she forced herself to take slow breaths and collect her thoughts.  She thought about sticking her head through to see to the other side before she committed her full body.  She realized she was delaying a choice she had made the moment she returned to that door.  She held her breath and stepped through the plasmatic metal as if it was an open doorway.