There are houses people cannot seem to leave, even though the doors are wide open. You feel very slightly heavier in them, the way you would on Jupiter. This is one of those houses. There is more gravity in this room than there is anywhere else on the planet, so much that I can hardly step outside it. My hands weigh a hundred pounds each and I can barely lift my head off the pillow in the mornings. The bed fills the whole room, and I lie on it and float, thinking about what I should do. The world moves its scenery back and forth in front of the window; it has nothing to do with me; it is
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