Where Readers & Writers Connect
My last girlfriend left me at Ma’s, the place on Eel Street where we both worked. I was depressed on the way home, crying in the street and everything. Then I saw this little bit of schmultzy something sparkle in the sun as it drifted past me, and it was one of those bits of dandelions or whatever. You know what I mean? Like the stuff comes off the back of cats. Dander. Fluff. Sometimes it floats around, and this was one of those times.
Anyway, I liked it, so I snagged it in my fist and took it home with me. Whatever, OK? I was distraught. My girlfriend just dumped me in front of my boss and a dozen regulars. I liked closing my fingers around this little flying soft thing and making it not fly anymore. My fluff.
So then I got into the apartment and she’d already taken her things and all her collectibles, except a smashed miniature glass lobster that I hated anyway. That was the last straw, because that meant she was really gone for good. I sat down on the floor and started sobbing in huge screaming gasps and keening wails. I heard myself and thought, damn, is that me? I was there but I wasn’t, you know? I was a balloon person watching this intense misery from outside of a big window in my head. My ex-girlfriend used to try to meditate herself out of her body, hypethral she called it. She never quite got it, but that’s what happened to me when I was crying on the floor. That’s how I noticed that I’d dropped the fluff thing.
Now things get weird. As I was listening to myself being miserable I was also watching the fluff. For every noise I made, it puffed up like a tire inflating. Soon I stopped being sad and cried to make the fluff grow. It was half my size by then, this big soft thing floating there in the middle of my apartment. I definitely should have known this was not normal, but my girlfriend was gone and everything seemed wrong anyway. So I moaned a little and it morphed legs, I sobbed and a head popped out, and I wasn’t that surprised to see that it looked like my girlfriend, except with no arms. And the more I cried, the better she looked! Did I mention she was naked? She was pure white and floating in midair like some kind of sexy translucent armless fluff goddess, and I swear to God I thought it was a miracle.
So I stopped crying and went to her.
That’s when it opened its mouth and began to scream.
I see some kind of Nordic witch today. He’s trying runes. I’m not optimistic. The last guy put me in a wind tunnel for forty-five minutes. Not only did it survive, he could hear it through the walls. It hasn’t stopped screaming, ever. It also follows me. My ex-girlfriend actually left town because she was so embarrassed.
But I think it’ll be OK. I’ve been reading about meditation. Nobody talks about the hypethral thing by that name, but there’s other ways to get out of your head. I’ve gotten pretty good. I meditate every morning and evening now. Sometimes I even get outside the window again. Those are good days.
Also, I found another piece of fluffy stuff. When I’m meditating I take it out and just say whatever. The other day, I told it to ride its love with training wheels. It got bigger than my head.