There was no sensation of falling this time.
I existed in the void the way a thought existed in the moment before it was spoken. No weight. No direction. No reference point.
I did not float because floating required space, and space did not exist here. I did not stand because standing required ground. I simply was, suspended in a state that refused every word I tried to use on it.
Time had ended with the jump.
Or maybe it had never entered with me.
There was no heartbeat to measure seconds. No breath to divide moments. My awareness stretched thin and wide, a sheet of glass laid over nothing. I could not tell if I had been there for an instant or an age. The distinction felt childish. Meaningless. The void did not recognize duration.
I was alone in a way that stripped the word of comfort.
