As the noise got louder and louder, it felt—it always felt—like pressure building in my skull, like air is being pumped and pumped and pumped in until it’s hard like a tire, but still more air pushes in and in and it begins to hurt so much, knife hot and migrainous, that you cry and imagine a fissure in the hard bone becoming a crack and the air finally rushing out and then relief from the pain. You are terrified. You are going to vomit. Your lungs are closing. The room is moving. Something bad is about to happen. It’s already in the room. It is making your back cold. You wait and wait and
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