Then the tether snapped.
That’s the part no one tells you: the silence. Down in the body, there’s always a hum—blood, digestion, the grind of molars. Up here, pure acoustic zero. I could have shouted her name until the walls bled sound. Nothing. I was a ghost in the only house I’d ever known. Then the tether snapped
The tether yanked.
(Out of Body Experience)
The Earth was a dime. My house was less than dust. My feverish body, that little animal pinned to a mattress, was already being forgotten by the universe. And that was the real terror. Not death. Scale . The absolute, hilarious indifference of altitude. Up here, pure acoustic zero
Not the ceiling. Me .
Not painfully. More like a rubber band letting go. I shot up through the roof, past the satellite dish, past the low clouds that felt like wet cotton against my face. The town shrank to a circuit board. Rivers became silver zippers. The curve of the Earth appeared, blue and brutal. I kept rising. I was a ghost in the only house I’d ever known
