I blew a kiss at the sky.
No really, I did. I blew a
kiss at the sky, at someone who I knew had left me, gone before me,
moved on, headed for the omega point, died, whatever you want to call
it. I'd been riding my bicycle down a road like I had a thousand times
before, and suddenly felt the need. I don't know why.
then, everything changed. It was that I-don't-know-how-I-know
sensations, I don't know if you know what I mean, but I have them
sometimes. And afterward, something is always different. It's usually
something small, but this one, let me tell you, it was a doozy.
damn near fell off my bike, and that's saying something. The last time I
fell off my bike, it was because a car t-boned me. But I digress.
rumbled from somewhere, and I swear, when I blew that kiss, the sky was
blue and empty. Clouds didn't just broil up like they do in the movies,
but they came up steadily from the horizon, and with them, a wind.
wasn't a cold wind, which I would have expected from this foreboding
turn of events; no, it was a warm, humid wind, bringing with it a hot
summer storm. You know, those ones with clouds so heavy they blot out
the sun, but they don't actually make it cold, so you're less annoyed
when you end up getting wet, because you're not wet and cold. We used to
get storms like that all the time around here when I was a kid, but I
haven't seen one in ages.
I kept biking because, well,
that's what I do. When it's summer and the weather is decent and I need
groceries, I hop on my bicycle. Besides, the wind was behind me, so it
wasn't actually hindering me, so I wouldn't have to worry about it until
I was on the way back with a load of food on my back, but these storms
never last too long, so I could always wait it out.
Yeah, but I should have been paying more attention to that feeling.
rumbled again. I'd gone a few blocks further by now, and the clouds
were well on top of me. I pedalled harder. It's not that I mind getting
wet, but biking in the rain is a whole different matter, especially when
you wear prescription eyeglasses like I do. Sure, I may not be blind
without them; sure, I may be comfortable walking without wearing them;
but when I'm going ten, fifteen miles an hour, I kind of need to see,
regardless how familiar I am with the route.
Then lightning struck.
I'm essentially riding a metal stick. It was only a matter of time, and
honestly, it's on my bucket list, right under sleep paralysis. Yes,
My hair went crazy staticy, and I think my
ponytail turned into a puff ball. I know my goatee poofed up because I
could see and feel it, all the follicles pulling away from each other.
I think I blacked out for a second, I sort of hope
I suffered some sort of trauma, and I'm really glad I started carrying
notebooks and writing utensils in my bag, because this sure as hell
isn't the world that I left. If I'm not dreaming or hallucinating or
missing some time or something like that, then I would be really
worried. Or I should be really worried.
worries me is that I'm not really worried, at least, not about what's
happened, what I'm seeing, what's changed about this world. Because that
feeling, the doozy one, it was right. This world is mental.
Every fictional book I've ever wondered or hoped or worried if it might be real somewhere... it's real here.
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