The Fall

A shift of the hand and the glass tumbles. The water inside sways, gathers momentum, adds to the force exerted by the hand to exaggerate the tumble of the glass. The glass leans forth, standing by merely the edge of the bottom, the water reaching out to almost feel the outside world. Surface tension fights a battle with the water to keep it inside the glass. Alas, this is one war, this particular force of physics will lose, the gravity and the momentum overpower the surface tension and the first drop escapes the glass, flying to his freedom. He reaches out to the open world, feels the free fall drop to the floor. He looks back and sees more of his kind reaching out. Joy coupled with curiosity fill his emotions.

As he free falls through the air the ground gets nearer, he feels the smell of the ceramics, the fabrics, the animals and the insects. The water drop absorbs all these new feelings, his senses relish the opportunity to feel all that he could not have fathomed while in the confines of the glass. The free fall gives him an almost spherical shape, he is completely self-contained. His own tension is defining who he is. In the glass, he was to take the shape of the glass, or the jug before. No more is he dependent on a vessel to define what he is to look like and how he is to behave.

The air flirts with him while he falls, tickles his surface, pokes into his body, trying to create an edge. Dust particles in the air stick to him, trying to cling on to him. These new friends of a new kind bring new meaning to his life. All that time, trapped in the glass, with the rest of the drops, not knowing where he ended and the other drop started, if only he had escaped earlier!

While these thoughts engulf his mind, with a smirk on his face, he glares at the air, the dust. They smile at him, you do know what is about to happen, the dust says. What? He asks inquisitively, well you are going to eventually fall, either evaporate and be never heard of or, mopped off! What! Me, mopped off, you must be crazy, you are just jealous because I can have a shape of my own, I can free fall, and you have to cling on to me to fall! And you, Air, with all your might, you can’t break my shape! Your jealousy means little to me, it is not wise for one to be proud when they can not have it their way, says the drop. The wind smiles, and continues to poke into his surface, the dust continues to cling on, in unison they say, you are not the first drop that thought a free fall was the best thing that happened to them, look down below, what do you see? Nothing, I see nothing, he retorts. My free fall is to last forever, and there is nothing in the world that can….A massive jolt shakes him, breaking him into pieces, mixing him with other drops.

Where am I? You are on the floor, replies another drop. What am I doing here? I don’t know, I have been here for a while, I don’t know how long, and I don’t know how long I will be here. I feel weak, parts of my body are evaporating. Just a little distance away, I heard all the water was mopped away a while ago! They were right, I was wrong, alas, it is too late, could I have succumbed to the wind to lift me up, could I have put my weight on the dust to remain in the air, could I have dived in the glass to stay in the glass. While pondering on these thoughts, he hears a loud blasting sound. Shredded pieces of the fallen glass fly into him, through him. A flood of drops flushes through, carrying him with it. He tries to regain his previous spherical position, but no matter what he does, he cannot regain what he had felt. Neither can he control the flow of where the flood is taking him. Come to think of it, even when he was free falling, and he thought he was in control, he had no control on where he was heading to. The writing is on the wall, the smells of the ceramics, fabrics and the insects remain within him. The dust and the air were right, it is going to be either the mop or he will vanish into thin air. There is nothing more to do, but wait, the fall is complete…


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