This place again. It's like a bad old penny she can't get rid of or escape.



In the distance, more slashes tear themselves through the air. Nearby, a clatter of something hard on a tiled roof tells her that other things than her are falling too.

Bits of the day raining down.

As she watches, what looks like a mailbox plunges through a hole in reality and splatters into the mud.



This is not a great place to be either.