'The man in the purple shirt' by Cath Barton

I had seen him before, I was sure. In town, somewhere, more than once, but he was
always moving away from me. It hadn’t meant anything; it wasn’t as if I was looking for a
man. But I did like his purple shirt, and if he’d walked towards me I would have asked him–
Oh, for good sake, what am I talking about, of course I wouldn’t have asked him.

‘What wouldn’t you have asked me?’ The man in the purple shirt was hovering just
in front of me.

‘What do you mean? Did I speak? Who are you? And how are you doing that?’ I
was burbling, I knew. Going red too, no doubt.

‘Haven’t you ever seen anyone doing yogic flying before?’

I stared at him as he continued to hover there, the man in the very nice purple shirt.

Silk, it looked liked, now I could see it close up.

‘Well, haven’t you?’

He sounded annoyed.

‘Yes, no, well only on You Tube, and that was probably faked. I’m not really into that
stuff.’ I bent down and ran my hand under his feet, just to make sure that he wasn’t up to
tricks with some box that he’d made look invisible. My hand passed through the air; there
was no box, no anything holding him above the ground.

‘Now do you believe it?’

‘Okay, I believe that you’re hovering in the air. You must have some motorised
contraption I can’t see. Pretty neat, I’ll give you that. But what’s the point and why are you
harassing me?’

I got no answers from him and he flew off. I’ve never seen him since, but I’ve got my
own purple shirt now so I can fly too. Just don’t ask me how I do it.