Margo didn’t usually remember falling asleep. There wasn’t usually a transition the way there was doing other things.
There was a transition walking through a door. There was a point where you were on one side of the door, a point where you were on the other side, and a transition point in between where you weren’t quite in one room or another. It was small, but it was a transition.
The transition state between waking and sleeping was something she usually forgot, or wasn’t aware of in the first place.
This time was different. As she lay there, blindfold over her eyes and hooked to more machines than she could count, she suddenly felt a familiar pull. Her back sank into the bed, then through it.
She could see the room again. White walls and floor, beeping machines. She couldn’t see herself, only the underside of the bed.
Her body passed through the floor and her view was abruptly thrust into darkness.
And from the darkness came light once again, a wall stretching horizon to horizon in the distance.
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