Dear Josephine,

I write this to you, wife, in order to understand the specifics of how this last month of mine has gotten me to where I am. A place in my life where everything is upside down, and all my blood rushes to my head.

You've always told me that I’m too stubborn, for my own good. That I refuse help, when I shouldn't. And that I always overestimate my own intelligence. I've always argued it's hard to estimate myself as such, when I have more degrees in metaphysics than I have fingers. And then you'd say that if I were really as smart as I claim to be, I wouldn't have lost two of my fingers in the first place.

I'm beginning to realize, after all these years, that you may have had a point.

I must also apologize, for cancelling our long-awaited vacation. You were quite understanding, which is very rare kind of you. I'm sure you understood my passion, and my reason for the cancellation. It's not every day, after all, that one gets to study a phenomenon that defies multiples laws of the universe!

I was already quite distracted, when we heard the news that night. I remember the newspaper clippings clearly. "Pulang Bato Falls, in the Philippines, has started flowing upwards!" And when I was chosen to work on the team investigating it, I was ecstatic. Although, in retrospect, that was no reason to hop on the plane at 4 AM and leave you with nothing except a fridge note that read "cancelled."

Ironic, I can see that note from here, on the ground.

I got to meet the team, when I arrived. It was led by some German fellow by the name of Mortimer. He looked as though he was still living 2 decades ago, in the sixties. Exquisitely groomed handlebar mustache, over-ironed white shirt, he even had a tweed coat on top! He seemed straight out of a Dickens book.

In fact, his expression was very Dickens when I picked the rock up.

The rock, the ROCK!!! That was the source of the anomaly, you see. A palm sized red rock. The working assumption, at that time, was the very first thing that came to the mind of most scientists confronted with such a dilemma. Meteorite. For when we approach odd things, when we see anomalies that defy our hard-acquired knowledge, our pride demands that of us. It demands that we brand it alien, so we can excuse our lack of knowledge.

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The geology team disagreed, heavily. They were certain the stone, our little red friend, comes from inside the earth instead. And so, after the initial burst of observations, we decided (maybe unwisely) to make haste with bringing it to some laboratory or the other. It was then, of course, that the arguments regarding which laboratory it goes to first started. And this is where I must shamefully admit that, when the lads were busy reasoning with Mr. Mortimer as to why their science center is so much better than the others, I was star struck.

I was staring, at the rock. Fascinated. Amazed by the way it so blatantly denied to follow every rule we’ve carefully discovered and tested so far. I caught myself, in this trance, and I was embarrassed. Embarrassed that I had come all the way here to do SCIENCE yet I was staring like a curious child. So, I decided to immediately make up for that, by doing something productive. I had been passively hearing their conversations, regarding the transportation arrangements, and so my subconscious brain had developed a certain idea that the “next step” is “moving the rock”.

I realize this rant sounds like an extended excuse, but I simply wish for you to know my exact thought process before I picked that thing up with my bare hands.

The horrified look on Mr. Mortimers face was very, very Dickens indeed.

They checked me after that, as fast as possible. A thorough checkup starting from my hands (which had been in contact with the presumed meteor) to blood tests, MRI scans and even a DNA test. They inspected me from finger-stump to toe, for an entire week, before booting me out of the team.

And so, I returned, humiliated. Done in by my own haste and hurry. I expected to see you there, with Mittens. I expected a massive scolding, a cold dinner and colder looks. All I found was the cat and my own note on the floor. “Fuck you, staying with Jane” written on the back. Even Mittens seemed disappointed in me, the way he drawled out his meow. I decided then, that before dealing with any of this, I should take a melatonin and get on the couch to sleep the jetlag away.

I awoke on the ceiling, where I sit now. I sit here specifically because I worry the gravity reversing effect may disappear just as suddenly as it came, and I want to be above a soft couch, at the very least, when that happens. Nutrition has not been much of an issue, I’m tall enough to reach the fridge from the ceiling. Although not tall enough to reach Mittens’ favorite box of treats, which was in the lower cupboards.

He is very fond of reminding me of that, with irritated meows. And not so pleased with how long it takes me to pour milk from the ceiling into his bowl.

If you don’t take pity on me, dear Josephine, at least take pity on the cat. The freezer is running out of ice cream and I’m not certain I can reach the fruit at the bottom of the fridge, even with jumping. Please come home.

Much love, your ceiling bound husband.

P.S. I sincerely hope the mailman doesn’t question things when I slip this letter from the top of the door, instead of the bottom.