They Fell of Ears and Think

Now, the shadows of their ears form strange words upon the green wall behind them, and these change as their relationships to the lights before them modulate in space. The first word is word. The second is fashion. We cannot understand the ears, but the furnishings are perfectly familiar, homey, even. A man says: “I do not have a secret, but here is my wallet.” The boy has previously pilfered his mother’s lighter and worried this will be discovered before he can return it. He does not speak.

There is flash then, and an explosive shock that seems to emerge from the atmosphere itself; the scene is shaken so violently that everyone is thrown to the floor. Some objects are destroyed. The floor cracks open, revealing a livid crimson interior. The floor is bleeding. The word on the rearward wall is: tingle. A woman’s voice says: “I do not think it will be much longer now.” What she may mean by ‘it’ is at once more sophisticated than the previous entirety of human thought… and as simple as an infant suddenly emitting the noises of a dolphin. The way the light fixture is swinging to and fro is the luminal echo of the recent impact, and it warps the word grotesquely where its shadow paints the wall.