Charles David Peterson sat idly in the classroom. As every day he seemed somewhat aloof from the students around him. It was hard to pin down that difference, handsome in a roguish way that seemed popular with the other boys and was of at least some interest to the girls his age. Teachers would often comment how he seemed to interact well with the other student and yet never really socialize. Of course none of this had any meaning for Charles. Today was a special day for him. It was something subconscious yet he could feel it bubbling all around him. Wandering with his mind he watched his body sitting, around him students did what students did, find any excuse not to be studious. Further still he could see the room he was situated in, people rushing about. Perhaps some kind of commotion, he blinked. Around him he could feel the wind whipping at his body, cold yet comfortable. Below him the school had become little more than a rectangle crushed in between as many other ubiquitous shapes staggered semi uniformly across the landscape.