Laws of Physics: Space (Hypothesis #5)

by Penny Reid

Studying words had been a compulsion of mine from a young age. I collected and hoarded them. I thought about how to assemble and arrange them to communicate the most truth in the least amount of syllables.

I try to stay soft, but the world makes it hard.

Sometimes reality feels like a dream. Something happens, and it makes you question everything you know to be true, everything you take for granted about the world, about yourself. When that happens, your surroundings and interactions become likewise warped, like you’re watching those around you through a magnifying glass, or in high saturation color, and you can’t stop. You can’t make the world normal again, you know too much.

I hypothesized that all dark matter were actually feelings, clustering and pressing upon hapless humans during the most inconvenient of times.

I slept horribly. But, no matter. That was the thing about sleep, there would always be more time to practice.

There was something else about her, devastating gentleness and strength, ruinous sweetness and vulnerability despite the severity of her intelligence. Or maybe because of it?

Because, let’s face it, genitalia—all genitalia, no matter the animal—range from distressing to disturbing to horrifying. Human vaginas look like sea creatures that slurp their food—and probably regurgitate half of it—and penises are startling, no matter the situation. If someone made a horror movie entitled, Dick Pics and just showed various dick pics? It would be the scariest, most distressing movie ever made. The only species that does reproductive systems visually right are angiosperms (flowering plants). When you’re smelling a flower, you’re basically smelling a dick. Let that sink in.

I’d like to lock him away from the world in my basement, lick him nightly like an ice cream, and make him the second member of my two-person book club.

“Take it like a woman?” I smiled at the way she’d modified the take it like a man turn of phrase. “Yes. I’ll accept responsibility, apologize, be sensitive to your concerns, work to modify my behavior in the future, and suggest we try to find a way forward with minimal awkwardness. You know, take it like a woman.”

What was love to Mona DaVinci? What did it look like? Did it open and stretch in front of her like a cavern, with no way around, no alternate course? Just through and through, into the unknown, the absence of it only coming into focus when the breadth of it was revealed?

I stared at her and I worked to keep my balance, because the floor and the earth moved beneath my feet. The cavern opened and stretched in front of me. I stared at her and I was afraid, because I knew. My whole life, from this point forward, I would be a fool for Mona DaVinci.

Don’t be too smart. Don’t admit you’re smart. Don’t think you’re smart. Be brilliant. Make some mistakes. Give your opinion. Don’t make any mistakes. Stop trying to be perfect. Don’t talk so much. Talk more. Don’t be too nice. Be nice. Smile. Don’t smile so much. Act like a man. Act like a woman. Be assertive. Don’t be emotional. Be sensitive. Not too assertive. Be nice to my friends. Don’t lead them on. Let them down gently. I was so tired of walking a tightrope, at work, here, with my family, with everyone. Enough. I’d had enough.

“I need someone to listen to my heart.” His face inched closer. “And it only wants to beat for you.”

I didn’t want one of her moments, I wanted all of them. I wanted an invasion, not a visit.

Drama llama green isn’t a good shade on you, Mona. It brings out your pores.

Mean smiles, no jokes, broody eyebrows. You’re like an arthouse movie but without the nudity.”

my emotions were banging at the door with a battering ram. Let us in! We want to hurt you!