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alongside his words. As I picture them, they kind of remind
me of a couple of dead, featherless birds. Yet there we all
were, with our pointless words scattering the breakfast table
as we shared our morning meal. At some point, as hard as it
is to believe, I think I actually declined a plate of bacon that
was passed to me, instead reaching for a grapefruit! Can you
even imagine such a thing!
“I do recall there being a steady breeze. The wind chimes
never let up for a second. I was trying to hear something
behind the noise of the tiny chimes, something that seemed
out of place on such a beautiful day. I remember that I
needed to look out the window, and thinking how odd an
impulse that was, and how I had never in all my life felt
something so strange. It were as if something from a dream
had taken over my free will. Right there in the kitchen at
breakfast, surrounded by greasy dishes and sunshine—the
most unusual moment of my life (of that life, anyway).
“No one at the table had any idea how terrified I was at
that moment. They just kept eating and talking and laughing.
Beneath my clothing, I began to tremble. I couldn’t speak.
I just turned my head toward the window and looked out
into the yard. There wasn’t a thing amiss. Everything
was accounted for—trees swayed in the breeze, sunshine
dappled patio, and a big blue sky hung overhead. But then I
realized, in the very second I turned away from the window,
something had indeed changed. The sound I couldn’t hear
for the chimes had entered the room. It had to have come in
through the window, naturally. I was still paralyzed. No one
even noticed the invading thing. They were still carrying on
as if the whole world wasn’t about to change. The little boy
looked at me, and he tried to speak. (Yes, I’m sure now that
it was a little boy.) His words, along with his entire body,
just sank away into the sound of the soft breeze, gently,
finally. Then there was darkness everywhere. I still held a
grapefruit in my hand.

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