The Wabbit retraced his hops to the car park. It was where he'd first seen Lapinette and he thought he'd pick it up from there. He stomped along in the manner of a detective he'd seen on television. Then he saw her. She was gliding though the car park on electric air. But she was different. Her face shimmered in the harsh glare of the lights. Her frock hung lazily. Not to mention her position - as if she were about to jump onto a moving train. It was then that he realised he seen this before. It was on the Ghost Inspectre subway. A daring Lapinette had dived on the train and he remembered for a second she was transfixed, pixelated by the carriages as they shuttled along. Then it passed. What had she said at the time? A possibility dimension? He tucked his paws in his fur and followed. If she was a ghostly spectre from the past - and it was a possibility - he'd better act like a spectre and haunt. He flattened against the wall and moved stealthily. His ears pricked up. She was humming a tune. "Ghostly, ghastly, ghostly, ghastly. Don't touch the walls, the walls, the walls." The Wabbit stepped away with speed. But not before he felt the clammy gasp of possibility on his shoulders. "I can't possibly put up with this," he gasped. He shrugged off possibilities and kept on the trail. He decided to chance it. "Lapinette!" His voice scraped down the walls. Possibilities squealed. The figure turned, waved at the Wabbit, mouthed "impossible" - and vanished.
