Netted

 

Everybody talks about what it feels like to fall. Very few talk of how wonderful it is to be caught. When the ground beneath your feet turns to water and the sun gleams brighter. There’s a warmth in your chest that’s not quite yours. The air turns to breeze and then wind against your back as you go down crashing. The pit in your gut grows stronger until you’re almost consumed by it. And then you feel the net. The soft weave of strings, breaking your fall. The strands, feather-like against your skin, engulf you. And you let it consume you. Its embrace so warm, like the sun on a winter afternoon.