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Flash Fiction - Jac Borich '24

My mind had divorced my body. My thoughts in the clouds above, floating, soaring even. Drawing pictures in the sky one moment, the next writing on a whiteboard. Artist and mathematician working together and fighting for control. Idly pulling the strings on my limbs like a puppeteer during a show. Back and forth, back and forth, up and down, up and down. Gliding through the water like a stingray, smooth and slow. All at once, the mind that was floating above comes crashing down upon my head, ready for control as I swim to the wall. Unfortunately for it, I push off, sending it spiraling through the skies again. Up and up, until it reaches a new realm. It enters the pages of a book, and lingers, floating around this strange galaxy. Theories and conclusions racing to be first, then being pulled apart with words already read. Suddenly pulled again by some invisible force, coerced into seeing a home. Inside, a dog perches atop a couch. It is a combination of whites, blacks, and browns. With eyes like … the scene changes again. A tv screen with the words “Not sorry…” flashes quickly before it’s yanked again, back to the real world. Blue, gray, red, yellow, white. It all blends together. I glance at the clock, and it’s only been 5 minutes. I groan and return to swimming aimlessly back and forth between easily-escapable walls. Thinking, pondering. Hoping, dreaming. Being. In between the folds of reality, “ope there goes gravity.” Attempting to draw back attention but there's a road block, take a wrong turn and all the sudden I’m “not in Kansas anymore.” Swimming from wall to wall letting ADHD distract until the two hours is up. Random movie quotes, song lyrics flowing through my mind as a river flows through the banks that it is trapped between. All the sudden it stops, it all goes quiet, a dam has been built, and the pill has started working.

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