Before I made a move, though, I sat for maybe twenty
Seconds, failing to feel my heart beat, though at that mo-
Ment I wanted to. The feeling of the inconsequence of what-
Ever I would do, of anything I would pick up or think about
Or turn to see was at the moment being set in the very bone
Marrow. How does one get through this? I asked myself
By doing something that is at hand to be done was the best
Answer I could give; that and not saying anything about the
Feeling to anyone. It was the old mortal, helpless, time-
Terrified human feeling, just the same. I had had a touch or
Two before, though it was more likely to come with my
Family, for I could find ways to keep busy at the studio, or
At least to seem busy, which was harder, in some cases, than
Doing real work. But I was really frightened, this time. It
Had me for sure, and I knew if I managed to get up
Through the enormous weight of la**itude, I would still
Move to the water cooler, or speak to Jack Waskow or Thad
With a sense of being someone else, some poor fool who
Lives as unobserved and important as a ghost, going through
The only motions it has