As I walk down the street, streetlight conical safety passing, I feel something shift like an earthquake, but inward.

Something appears some distance ahead.

I squint, but whatever it is only appears as a hole in my sight, black and without texture. Slowly I walk towards it. I try to come at it at an angle, to see if any variation exists.

Perfectly spherical, and as I get closer I feel the hum of silence. A quiet so perfect that the sound of your blood flow and heartbeat is deafening.

Slowly I reach out and as my fingers pass whatever barrier this sphere represents, I can feel nothing beyond where my fingertips have disappeared. I pull my hand back and find my fingers are gone. I don’t find this alarming. Of course they’re gone. I was born that way. This still does not explain the sphere.

I pick up a rock and throw it within.

I should try throwing something inside.

I pick up a rock and throw it within.

I wonder absently what happens if you put something inside.

I take some change from my pocket, hold it above the hole and drop it within. As it passes within-

I wonder with increased curiosity what it looks like inside the hole. I lean closer, eyes wide and spark of curiosity clear. Closer. Closer.