Your mind is full of plans for the Dark Planet con on Saturday and you fumble the key in the lock. Finally you get the door open, tossing your Chillin’ Chikkins cap on the hook and heading to the bedroom to put the jacket away.
You haven’t tidied up yet from last night’s game session, and your wineglass is still on the floor by the bed, the dried remains of Stig’s strange concoction in the bottom. There’s a droplet on the foot of the glass, and it strikes you that it almost matches the pattern on the carpet. You turn it so it lines up.
Abruptly your bed is gone, in its place a mattress lying directly on the floor. And the room is strewn with dirty clothing, food cartons and beer cans.