"Oh, come on, come on, Willy," Red said impatiently, pulling him back to the pad. "Jim knows how much we appreciate his help. Come on!"

"Oh, very well," said Willy, winking at me. I winked back. "Lucky sti—" I began, but then remembered Willy's corpse. That brought a nagging thought to my mind, but Willy and Red were lying side-by-side, half submerged in their second dimension, and Red was beckoning impatiently, pointing to the dough rubber beside her.

"Hurry up," she said. "Rub us out."

I rubbed them out.

Willy's body vanished from the floor as I dropped the eraser. And just as suddenly I was sober. Cold, shaking sober.

Where was Willy? I looked around the room. Nobody but me. Me and my delirium tremens.

I got out of that apartment fast and headed for a long line of drinks. I had a big case of murder to wash away. Or did I?...

... So you see, that's how it is. Willy's gone, and nobody knows where. Nobody but me. And I don't know either. I keep thinking of what Red said about her "fourth dimension" world. I think about it a lot.

I've given up my job at the agency. My apartment too. I got a new one. Willy's. It's just as it was that night. Right down to the last pastel and brush. It's going to stay that way too. Everything just as it was. Every gadget that Willy used in his work.

I've got a use for everything in that apartment. I've got to know what happened. And there's only one real way to find out.

I spend my days thinking about my ideal woman. Each day she gets more vivid in my mind.

My evenings are spent at Art School. I'm learning fast....