On Tuesday morning, John woke up with a strange feeling, like something had shifted overnight. Relief about going out on Thursday played a part, but this was different—less tangible, as if something inside him had stirred but refused to show itself fully. 

He rolled onto his side, blinking against the sunlight streaming through the gaps in his blinds. The air was already heavy with heat, even though it couldn’t be much later than seven. Grabbing his phone, he confirmed the time: 7:01 a.m. Close enough. A message from Mary lit up his screen: 

“Johnny!!! ‘Dra said you’re coming to QnA on Thursday. Do you wanna join me for shopping and something fun today? Trust me, you’ll love it x.”

John smiled. Mary had a way of making everything seem like the best idea in the world. While ‘Dra was more reserved and introspective, Mary was an unstoppable burst of energy. She could light up a room and drag everyone into whatever plan she had dreamed up. 

This would be the first time they spent one-on-one time together, and John was both excited and slightly nervous. He typed out a quick reply: “Yes! What time and where?” 

Pulling himself out of bed, John headed to the kitchen, where the smell of toast and coffee greeted him. His dad sat at the table, watching the morning news with his usual ricotta-topped toast in hand. 

“Morning, matey,” his dad said, his voice muffled by a mouthful of food. 

“Morning,” John mumbled back, shuffling over to the coffee machine. 

The news anchor droned on about inquiries into the Black Saturday bushfires and incidents of prams nearly rolling onto train tracks across Melbourne’s rail network. His dad made a disapproving sound, shaking his head at the grim stories. 

“You know,” his dad said, “I get why you’re excited to go out with your friends, but your mum and I—we just worry, that’s all.” 

John sighed, feeling the weight of another well-meaning parental lecture. “Yeah, but I’m not doing anything wrong.” 

“I know, believe me, I know,” his dad said, setting his toast down. “It’s just a lot for us to process. There’s a lot we don’t know, and that’s scary for us.” 

“I’m not going to do anything stupid,” John said, sipping his coffee. “Besides, didn’t you tell me once that you drove a car off a cliff and barely got out in time?” 

His dad paused, then broke into a sheepish grin. “Yeah, that was… something. At the time, everything felt great—like my friends and I were invincible. But when you get older, you realize how fragile things really are.” 

John studied him for a moment. His dad wasn’t especially tall, but his solid build and steady presence had always made him seem larger than life. The streaks of gray in his hair and the faint lines around his eyes softened that impression now. 

“We just want you to be happy,” his dad said simply. 

For a moment, John felt the tension ease. “I know,” he replied, managing a small smile. 

After exchanging a few more messages with Mary, John found himself on a tram heading into the city by late morning. The trip usually took around 40 minutes, though he always added extra time in case of delays. 

John had been riding the tram into the city for years, watching it evolve with every trip. He remembered when Daimaru closed and Melbourne Central took its place, transforming the cityscape into something that seemed more vibrant and exciting each year. 

Today’s destination was St. Jerome’s, a place Mary had mentioned but John had never heard of. When he arrived at Caledonian Lane, just behind Myer, he wasn’t sure what to expect. 

The lane was drenched in sunlight, and the faint hum of music drifted through the air. The restaurants backing onto the lane looked unremarkable. An older man sat on the steps outside one, his tanned face turned to the sun as he took a long drag of his cigarette. 

John hesitated in front of an unassuming door. The entrance was flanked by fake vines and a makeshift bench, with no sign to confirm if this was St. Jerome’s. 

Swallowing his nerves, he pushed the door open and stepped inside. 

The sudden shift from the blinding sun to the dimly lit interior was jarring. A faint smell of toast mingled with the aroma of something herbal. 

“Hey, you!” called a girl with a sharp fringe and tattoos behind the bar. 

“Uh… hi,” John stammered. 

“You’re at St. Jerome’s,” she said, laughing lightly. 

“I’m meeting someone,” he said, glancing around nervously. 

“Sexy girl with the big hair?” the bartender asked, gesturing toward the courtyard. “She’s out back.” 

Blushing, John shuffled past her and into the cramped space. The mismatched lamps, odd figurines, and scribbled chalkboards gave the bar a strange, chaotic charm. It felt like stepping into someone’s cluttered but cozy living room. 

Outside, Mary was waiting with a beer in one hand and a cigarette in the other. She raised her bottle in a silent toast. 

“Johnny!” she exclaimed as he approached, pulling him into a hug. “Congratulations! You’re free from VCE hell!” 

They caught up over drinks, Mary regaling John with the latest gossip from their group. As always, she listened intently when it was John’s turn to speak, giving him her full attention in a way that felt rare and refreshing. 

“You know, schoolies is overrated,” Mary said, taking a drag of her cigarette. “Have fun in your own city—it’s way better.” 

John glanced up at the patch of sky visible between the surrounding buildings. It felt surreal to be here, just steps away from the Myer store he’d visited countless times with his family, yet in a world that felt entirely new. 

“Okay,” Mary announced, snapping him back to the moment. “We’re going shopping, and then we’re getting our cards read.” 

“Cards?” 

“Tarot, babe. You’ll love it.” 

John hesitated but agreed. He decided not to mention it to his parents; they didn’t need to know everything. 

—

Later, they arrived at the Royal Arcade, its intricate tiles and glass roof lending the place an almost otherworldly atmosphere. Spellbox sat nestled among the old shops, its wooden shelves brimming with crystals and books. 

The woman at the counter greeted Mary warmly. “Hello, darling. And who’s this?” 

“This is John,” Mary said. “He’s here for a reading with Serena.” 

The woman’s gaze lingered on John for a moment, her expression unreadable. “Ah, yes. Follow me.” 

John ascended the creaky wooden stairs, each step groaning underfoot. At the top, a woman waited. 

“John,” she said, her voice soft but firm. “Come in.” 

The small room was quiet and dim, with an air of something ancient and knowing. Serena gestured for him to sit. 

“I’ve been waiting for you,” she said, her tone matter-of-fact. 

John blinked. “What do you mean?” 

She smiled faintly. “Place your hand on the deck and ask your question silently.” 

Hesitant but curious, John did as he was told. **What’s going to happen to me?** 

When he lifted his hand, Serena began shuffling. 

“You’re going to disappear,” she said, her voice calm but deliberate. “In a short time, you will no longer be here. You’ll be somewhere else entirely.” 

John’s stomach twisted, her words both thrilling and unnerving. 

“This does not mean death,” Serena added. “It rarely does.” 

She studied him carefully. “You can see, can’t you? It’s something your mother passed down to you—something very old but incomplete. Speak to her when the time feels right. Ask her about the old healer your Grandfather was friends with when he was a boy. She’s been waiting to tell you.” 

John’s heart pounded, his mind a whirl of emotions—fear, excitement, curiosity. 

“Any questions?” Serena asked. 

He shook his head. The answers he wanted felt just out of reach, waiting to reveal themselves in time. 

“Good luck, John,” Serena said, standing as he did. 

Outside, Mary greeted him eagerly. “Well? How was it?” 

“It was… nuts,” John said, still processing. 

The rest of the day passed in a haze of shopping and conversation. As the tram carried him home through a pink and purple sunset, John leaned his head against the window, his thoughts racing. 

Where was he going? And what did disappearing really mean?