"We just ate lunch, guys," he reasoned, "I'm just worried we might throw up and bother our chaperon again."
Still, we took our seats in the front lines of the ride, strap in the required belts, and let the machinery navigated us to adrenaline-ridden joy. In a matter of seconds, a bunch of teenagers took off to uncanny speed among the railed wagon. Some were screaming, some enjoyed and some didn't. The air whooshed around us, wind friction smacked against bodies, flapping hair backwards and sending us the humanly response of sensation fluctuation.
Being alone in time felt almost like that. Except you're the ghost that got stuck in the rail for an imperceptible amount of time. And the track didn't go around, they just span on forward in almost an infinity. How do you even propose an 'almost' infinity, though?
Dead, for God knows how many years ago. Bodies, unfound. But you linger there, unmoving. A lost ghost sitting atop a phantom wagon, detached from space and reality. Just watching. All the fun, all the togetherness.
I wonder how many of them still remembered me.
-
It was the New Year's Eve. Breaking the ordinary routine of not leaving home and just waiting until the fireworks going bonkers outside to mark the start of a new calendar period, we decided to get dinner in a family restaurant, and went to the uphill cottage to catch the overview of the whole town. Roasted corn and ice cream were there, too, and for a moment I thought it would finally be a good year for me.
11 days in, I'm still stuck.
In a bubble, unfazed by the quick flow of ethereal matters around me. Time.
It moves like a current, a river so vast and makes little sense to our limited navigational function. Most things - and people - swim along its flow. Some are slow, some are faster, some attempted to hold their movement before reaching finish line, but nothing tried to move against it. Nothing could.
At first I swam in delight. Fast and steady, together in warm water, like everything is possible. Then the bubble came out of nowhere. Tiny little bubbles floating around us, me and my friends, we giggled at them and played along. We popped some of them as we drift along. I tried keeping one particular bubble as a token of that moment, but it popped as I swam a bit further.
He insisted to leave. I kept another bubble.
It was stronger than any other I've ever seen. It floated alongside me when I was alone. Then it grew bigger and bigger everytime I found an island to rest.
I don't rest on islands anymore. The bubble is where I live, where I rest, and where I spend the rest of my life.
