28 | Psychopomp Magazine
Two solitary driblets formed in each duct. Their gravity grew upward into steadily increasing bubbles that vibrated in monstrous size above her head until the sadness exploded under weight of its own making. Ursa Major, dripping, looked over her shoulder for any light, or maybe even another passenger. Sometimes gazes at another in similar quests can curl (however temporarily) present reality into kinks of an alternate dimension. No one was there.
There’s dark, then there’s dark dark, this was the dark dark dark. Ursa Major felt the dark dark dark entering every orifice. A vast black broken into steel-wool like strings and threaded into every spore. Each exhale chipped against black, putting hairline cracks in Ursa Major’s last breath. Where were telescopes now? Mama Huitzilopochtli? Destination? There? She closed her eyes. In the singular moment of a stellar explosion, the galaxy bursts into an ignition that rises over a horizon and energizes a rooster’s crow. A philodendron crawls up lattice. Somewhere, everyone yawns while stretching water into a kettle. If Ursa Major could wonder, she’d surrender to is this all there is here? ♦