“Let’s manifest them,” I said. I’d just read an article in a self-help journal at the doctor’s office about manifesting what you want from your life by visualizing yourself having it. My friend Sander looked at me with a face you don’t want to look at you. We both had crushes that barely noticed us, so I thought I’d give the whole manifesting thing a try. I mean, what could it hurt? Isn’t self-delusion at the threshold of creativity? “Imagine Sarah knocking at your front door right now,” Sander said. “What if this actually worked?” I said. “Would we have to tell them we made them appear? I’m not sure I could keep something like that to myself,” he said. “Hopefully, they’d have figured that out already,” I said. “It’s too much power to have,” he said. “They would certainly be afraid of us after that,” I said. “Yeah, but who would believe them?” he said. “Maybe we should just call them again,” I said. “Waste of time,” he said. “You going anywhere?” I said. “Maybe we should unmanifest them from our minds,” he said. “Good idea,” I said. “Seriously,” he said. “Oh, I am being serious. We are slaves to our own minds, propensities and desires, and suffering is our one true love, the only woman willing to stay,” I said. Then Sander had the idea to decapitate himself by jumping headfirst from the window toward some metal fencing that surrounds my apartment. “Yeah, that’ll fix it.” Sander jumped and next thing you know his head is skippering under the McCallister’s car like a squirrel. “Any luck?” “No, she’s still here,” he said. “Hurry up and get back up here before you get run over,” I said. Sander’s head climbed up the fire escape and skittered up the window and into the apartment, and the air seemed to have a mind of its own. “What do you have to drink?” he said. “Just water,” I said.