The delicate glow of the lights was somewhat comforting in this eerie, unfamiliar landscape of oversized grocery items
If she formed two circles with her hands, fingers greeting each thumb, she could almost pretend she was looking through a pair of binoculars
Perhaps she was stargazing on a frosty Winter’s night. A glorious array of sparkles above her, the crisp air filling her lungs
Had she known that her Saturday morning would involve a spontaneous detour through a refrigerator, she would have dressed more suitably for the occasion
Zayla hoped that the driver would let her back inside the taxi, even though she was clad top to toe in gelatin. How rude of her to keep him waiting
Upon closer inspection, she realized that the chandelier wasn’t inside the fridge at all
It was hanging from a sloped wooden ceiling beyond the confines of the picture she was inside
If she leaned even further to the left, beyond the peak of the towering milk carton, she could see what appeared to be a looming mountain of typed words on a curved page of white
Page thirty one. Her reluctant location. Her current predicament
How does one get out of a recipe book, in the unfortunate event of falling into one?
If she had any chance of making it to the airport on time, she must find a way to climb out of here
With one leg over the edge of the bowl, she pulled herself up and over, but lost her grip and slipped back in
One more attempt. This time she made it, slippery arms clinging to the glass rim, legs dangling precariously
Zayla realized that one of her shoes was missing. She twisted slightly to see it bobbing on the surface behind her, just within arms reach
Retrieving the shoe, she tossed it over the edge of the bowl, before making a brave leap towards the shelf below
She leaned against a wall, tipped the liquid out of her left sneaker and pushed it back onto her foot
Wonder and confusion swirled in her mind. She’d never been inside a fridge before
There was no way the taxi driver would believe her. But he probably met all kinds of peculiar people
Zayla hoisted herself up onto a small tub of basil pesto, dripping jello in a trail of plum flavored footsteps behind her
From the round black lid of the pesto tub, it wasn’t much further to gain her footing on top of the butter, then the mayonnaise and…. now the pickle jar
She could almost reach the corner of the photograph
She bent her knees into a squat and leapt with all her might towards the page
As her hand emerged from the book she could feel the warmth of the air in the room above
Another desperate leap. Her arms embraced the world of ‘Up There‘ for one brief moment
On the third attempt, her hands gripped the edge of the paper and she remembered how much she loathed doing pull ups at the gym
Zayla swung her left foot towards a brown greasy box of take-out noodles and made a rather clumsy landing next to a stray chopstick
When she stood, she was now tall enough to peer over the horizon of the page
The chandelier on the ceiling above her created a miniature galaxy of sparkles across the paper
Oddly enough, her hair and t-shirt were now clean and dry. But from the waist down, she was still damp and plum-colored
Zayla conjured the little energy she had left to pull a wooden chopstick from the top of the noodle box and lean it against the frame of the picture
Walking cautiously up the chopstick, one foot in front of the other, she made her way to the warmth and safety of the paper curve, leaving the cold refrigerator behind her