Adolescent Fascinations

I didn’t really understand it, like so many understood ideas that fly through the large pop-up book of my mind, but for some reason I can only see the floaters in my eyes when I’m looking out of the windows of my dad’s car.

With every movement of my eyes, the tiny bubbles would hesitate for a fraction of a second then follow. So I began making the bubbles dance. Smoothly gliding from one end of the car window to the other, the bubbles jumped into life before my eyes; a private show just for me.

I made them jump over road-signs as a sort of video game. If I touched the street sign with the bubble of my choosing, I would lose. I was doing so well, I had only hit a few, when…


I was no longer the dreamy six-year-old in the backseat. I had the steering wheel gripped tight when I heard the sound of metal vs. metal, that could never be summed up by the letters scrrrrrgh, screaming in my ears. But where did that car come from? Dad’s gonna kill me!

The last sign my floaters jumped said STOP.

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