You hesitate for just a moment before reaching for the Claritin. You run the tap water and lean your head into the faucet to wash down the pink pill. The world goes sideways.

 

When you stop falling, the first thing you hear is an angelic soprano, warbling an alarmingly beautiful melody. Your blurry eyes focus and you see the most spectacular Bird of Paradise in a sea of equally and unrelentingly gorgeous exotic flowers. It serenades you.

 

"Beautiful Gertie," it sings. "You're only thirty."

 

"Your life has been dirty

But here is your fate

Gertrude, you're purty

Yes, flowers are flirty

But you are so worthy

So, Gertrude, just wait."

 

Um. The flowers are definitely weird here and you feel a lliiitle objectified, but what the heck—you walk further down the path.

 

It forks just up ahead. To the right is a stupidly beautiful palace. To the left is a statue of what looks suspiciously like your mother.