A World Set Adrift
Some rules in life feel unbreakable—until they suddenly aren’t. That was the thought in humanity’s mind, when everything changed on New Year’s morning. I woke up weightless, my feet hovering inches above where I’d fallen asleep on the sofa. The blanket around my shoulders slipped off, and floated upwards. My first thought was that I was dreaming. My mother’s voice screaming from the other room snapped me out of that. “What’s happening?” She shrieked. “Hold onto something!” I yelled back, arms clutching onto the sofa, before that began floating towards the ceiling as well. I swung my arms around in a wild attempt to swim through the air. Outside, I saw cars lift off the ground. People were hanging on to trees and lampposts—anything still attached to the earth—with their legs kicking in the wind. Some were not so lucky. A boy in a blue sweater screamed as he floated past the window of the apartment—which was on the fourteenth floor—with his scared chihuahua in his arms. My stomach ...