The wire that holds the world in place may break. They know this. They have seen it happen.

Their globe is the largest in view; just large enough for them to sit side by side. When they were children they could roam its curved surface but now that they are grown they must cling to each other or fall to the ground at the bottom of the universe.

Although it is a relative giant, the globe does not have enough mass to keep them attached. Gravity only pulls down in this place in the floorboards. Straight down to another floor beneath.

That is why they are scared that the wire will break, sending their world tumbling to the floor, where it will crack. One fell not long ago, the solitary inhabitant praying to imaginary gods for a while as he lay, broken, down below.

He slips from her embrace for the first time in years. The wire cuts into his hands but he grips it tight and climbs.

When he reaches the roof of the universe he skritches and scratches, trying to find a way out. His own weird prayer to God above.