“I don’t believe these lies,” I heard myself say, and as though it were an incantation, I was slapped back together.
“I don’t believe these lies,” I heard myself say, and as though it were an incantation, I was slapped back together. That isn’t exactly what happened, but it’s the only way of saying that seems to come close to whatever did. There were three of me—one on the float, one in the north bedroom, one on the path—and each one felt that hard slap, as if the wind had grown a fist. There was rushing blackness, and in it the steady silver shaking of Bunter’s bell. Then it faded, and I faded with it. For a little while I was nowhere at all.
