Peter stepped gingerly through a door that opened into a basement full of sunlight. Rubbing his eyes under a pair of heavy sunglasses, Peter looked around. Same basement he'd stepped out of while it was dark.
"You've been gone a long time." Taara shouted from above him. She was wearing a different, frillier, gauzier, bleaker outfit than when he stepped out.
Peter quietly closed the heavy wooden door which faded away: A slow dissolve like a wafer of sugar in a sink full of warm water.
Peter sighed, his temples suddenly tight.
The pit in the middle of the burned out basement was gone, now; a cracked cement floor and chunks of support beams and window frames scattered about in its place.
The sky shone blue.
"Going to be a hot one, today, I think." Taara said and, slinking onto her belly, stretched an arm down, to help Peter up. She wiggled her fingers invitingly. and grinned. Her sunglasses were half dollar mirrors in ornate, spiraling, copper frames.
Dusting himself off, Peter looked at Taara over his sunglasses. He said, "Thanks."
"I haven't been here the whole time." She replied with a raised eyebrow and impenetrable lenses. "You've been gone three days."
They stared at each other for a few moments. "Oh." Peter said.
"Oh indeed." Taara replied. She added, "At least the door stayed. I thought maybe the assailant and the keys would get pushed up as the hole disappeared, but no such luck."
"Never is." Peter replied,
"Then I worried the door would vanish before you were back." Taara poked at Peter's chest. "Call next time." She admonished with a smile.
Very slowly Peter said: "We should go back to my place." He asked, "Do you mind driving?" and added, "I have a crushing headache, suddenly."
"Sure thing." Taara said, and slid her bare shoulder under Peter's arm, propping him up on herself as they crutched to Peter's car, parked in front of the ruin.