Suspension

My eyes remain fixated on what I see—or rather, what I don’t see.

Two words vanish right before me; right before my naked eyes.

The bold, capitalized words, ‘ATLANTIC OCEAN.’

The same words my hand slid over while I held on to the globe for support.

I quickly bring my palms up to my face, observing my fingertips, looking for smudges of black ink.

There are none.

Nothing to show that the writing rubbed off them, no evidence that the words had even been on the globe to begin with.

Maybe they weren’t and I imagined them?

My body seems to lean towards the globe again even as my heartbeat refuses to let up. My legs carry me forward without my permission, moving me even closer to the spherical antique of their own accord.

The crunch of crushed glass momentarily breaks the silence around me, an audible warning that my old, worn converse are stepping on the newly broken shards. Yet, I don’t stop. Not until I’m standing right in front of it, my body so close that I’m practically touching it again.