Dysconnected

We’re standing in the doorway, chatting in that indefinable, sludgy, yellow-brown light that comes from the mixture of moon and street lamp. I start to lose concentration. I can feel it gathering in the distance, a tsunami from a lunar sea. I feign ignorance, but bliss eludes me. This wave will break, whether I like it or not.

Conversation becomes difficult. I can feel my pulse racing and distraction dances before my eyes. Too stubborn for my own good, I decide to ride it out, but I underestimate its strength. It crashes onto my shoulders like a tiger and forces me to the ground. An undignified attempt to sit becomes a complete loss of power.

I open my eyes. He was standing on my right, but now crouches to my left. He knows the territory, so seems more bemused than worried. “You alright?” Hmm. Not entirely sure yet. Vertical’s an impossibility, but horizontal is uncomfortable. I drag my body against the wall. “Want some water?” No… space, time.

I shiver and realise I’m burning up, drenched in sweat. I run a hand over my cropped head, partly to double-check that I still exist. Fuck… “That was like Avatar,” he says. “Did someone pull your plug?” Ha, funny. Good. Funny is the only correct response. Anything else would imply an importance it doesn’t deserve.

I chuckle at my virtual life, suddenly dysconnected on a grimy street in the south-east corner of the Kingdom. I mumble some kind of unnecessary apology, more in reassurance than contrition. “It’s okay to be vulnerable,” he says. I consider his words and realise that it’s been too long since I felt any other way.