A glow had been spotted. An aura had been detected.
I turned and saw Richard Simmons standing in the doorway. His eyes were closed and his right arm caressed the doorjamb in the style of a '40s movie starlet. The rhinestones on Simmons's tank top formed the shape of a giraffe — an odd animal for aerobics, but never mind. His pants were orange and yellow, and he wore white New Balance sneakers.