Alice wakes up, as she usually does in the mornings. She dissolves into the covers. That part isn’t usual. Usually she gets out of bed, puts her dressing gown on, does her hair, puts some toast on, listens to Radio Lincolnshire, smiles at the cat, feeds the cat, eats the toast, does her teeth, and goes out to work. But no, today, just as her vision is clearing, and the songs of morning are beginning to flower in her head, she goes sploosh, and just dissolves. “Well, better call in sick” she thinks. But she can’t reach for the phone, because she has dissolved. She sighs a harrumph. “Shit.” she says.