I must be dreaming. Must. There is no other explanation. I have moved into another flat, a tiny one where not even half of my book collection can fit in, but behind the large windows is the Sea. I step out onto the balcony and am met by the sun, the salty winds and Jack Bauer with a bottle of champagne. The view is magnificent, even when I tear my stare away from Jack. I sip the bubbly and wait for myself to wake up.
The alarm goes off.
Jack Bauer is gone. Damn. But the sea is still there, the sun, the balcony, even the bottle of champagne. I have a new home. By the seafront. It's not a dream.
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