oh

Come, wave, come, you think. It’s the game of the blank. Let’s have it. Then, following three breaths—deep, fast, preparatory—you look, finally, at the new pages.

“Oh,” you say. “But I

You disappear. It’s the damnedest thing. There’s a feeling of falling that’s almost like flying; falling not down but into. The page you’d been holding drifts, seesaw, through the air, coming to rest softly on the floor.

—Jordan Yunus, Subject to Infinite Change