Back then, the gravity of the bridge worked against me, holding me down. As it should’ve.

It was normal, like all bridges are, and I sludged forward like a snail across the normal path where normal people walked as they did. For many years, this bridge looked exactly as it did the day before, and the day before that. The day after, however, it transformed in the blink of an eye. When once people walked mindfully, now they rushed.

As it was, the current of people pulled me against my wishes. Again, I was already late for the meeting… after all, what’s an extra fifteen minutes?

The swarms of people oddly resembled the mob of students milling about from club to club, from team to team, from class to class at my sardine can school.

My colossal backpack weighed down on me, stuffed to the brim with papers representing this assignment and that project and that obligation and that opportunity and—

Every student at my school brightened at challenge. I hesitated to take that step forward, but, before I knew it, there I was, speeding toward the horizon with them.

I’ve never changed. I want to run slow, live chained, fly through the air like a plant, firmly root myself in the waters of everything. It’s not like I’m needed. I’m replaceable, and it doesn’t matter. They could find another school president. They come at least one every year, guaranteed.

I shouldn’t complain. It’s the best place one could ask for. All one thousand of us, living large, living everything to the fullest. And I got the special seat.

Yet, something moved in me.

My body, against my intentions, gravitated, once more, to that space.

There was a pocket under the bridge that used to hold the tent of a permanent camper. As I made my way down under, memories attacked me.

Can you take care of these projects for me, I know you’re backlogged for a week and that you’ve given the rest of the students a much-needed break, but I really need to get these done. We need to get these done.

I’m so proud of you, my son. You’re the student council president, the team captain of the basketball team, and you have the best GPA in the school. Next is medical school!

I bit my lip.

I’m sorry. I can’t be friends if you don’t care enough to make time for me.

I ripped off my cardigan and took the plunge into icy waters, sending shivers into my skin, making me feel alive.

When I surfaced, the world was purple and pink.

This was the disorienting part—my whole view flipped right as it shouldn’t be.

For when I thought I was seeing things straight, the pseudo-reality was that everything really wasn’t what it seemed, but a flipped copy.

Here.

I fell from the waters of the sky and back into that familiar place.

My upside-down world.

----------------------------------------

The girl was incredibly simple.

Don’t be fooled by her heterochromatic eyes, or her summer dress that retail stores scramble to take inspiration from, or the way her hair flows down with silky smoothness, or her stupid sense of humor.

She was incredibly simple, but that was what made her so special.

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She was journalling again, another one of her many pastimes.

As structure led to structure, and way gave way to way, I finally reached Corina’s shed.

In plain reality, this shed crumbled under the weight of time and negligence.

Here, it was repainted and converted into a little shrine.

A plain piece of work for a plain girl. A special house for a one-of-a-kind resident.

I was an expert at navigating The Reversal, as it were, almost losing to the infinite sky below a few times, but at this point, I’m a bonafide expert.

A step too short.

I plummetted.

By coincidence, Corina was there and caught me by the wrist.

“Aren’t you glad we coordinated this?!” Corina reprimanded. “Agh… I knew you would slip, you idiot!” The corners of her eyes were watering.

“And I knew you would catch me,” I smiled.

“Get in here and give me my food already.” We convened inside.

After clearing the path, I sprawled across the cushions like a cat, purring with every breath.

“Sit up!” Corina reprimanded. “Don’t you know how serious this is? You could’ve died!” She twiddled her fingers. “And… then, you know, nobody would bring me food anymore! I would die too! That’s the problem!” As she pushed forward, her cheeks puffed a rosy red, complementing her like dull clay bricks in the California sun.

I looked away out of consideration for her unflattering state. “First of all, you’re a little close.” Her natural floral scent was overpowering. It was killing me.

Yet she didn’t pull away. And, well, I was too lazy to adjust myself.

Corina smiled and it irritated me. I clicked my tongue and covered a smirk.

“Here,” I said, shoving the food toward her. “And before you can call me out on it,” I scratched my head, “Thanks for saving me. Again.”

Corina beamed and her face softened. “And thank you for the food,” she said while caressing the handmade boxed lunch.

This girl was the resident of the realm, known as The Reversal.

Here, in Urbania, The Reversal is exactly what you’d expect from a typical city in the mainland: a sprawling workforce, diverse attractions, and the occasional blip in time and space.

A world where everything is upside-down. A little trippy, yet I return about once a week.

“You’re here like seven days a week,” Corina said between munches. “That’s every day.”

I frowned, suspecting our mismatched calculations. “Isn’t time desynced here?” I rationalized.

“Oh.” Corina pondered resembling a weathered stone statue—or a Greek goddess. “Yeah. You’re right.”

“See—”

“—It runs faster here than does the outside, if I remember right. That means you visit like twice a day. Are you sure you have the income for all these lunches?”

I open chopsticks and try snagging a few bites from Corina but she wouldn’t budge.

“I knew another girl like you that had button eyes,” I poked at her.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Don’t worry about it. Also, I don’t have the money. I make it, myself.”

Corina’s eyes shot open like a race referee’s pistol. “You’re lying.”

“Yes.”

“Is that a lie?”

“No.”

Corina enjoyed her meal having received a satisfactory answer. Meanwhile, I confused myself.

I stared at her notebook. “Do you mind if I take a look?” I asked.

Corina blushed. “Sure…” she hesitated. “G-go ahead.”

I nodded and thanked her.

It was only after the wild introductions that we fell into a stable rhythm.

Maybe it was to spice things up.

… I confess I do I show up often.

As I read through her journals, no birds sang outside.

No wind blew.

No trees rustled.

It was completely quiet, and it may as well stay that way forever.

I settled down and felt the comfort of the soft cushion beneath me.

The both of us pulled out bottles of tea and we sipped in concord.

Corina’s journal read minimally. Today’s entry contained thoughts on interior design, philosophy, and…

Today’s the last day. Thank you for everything.

A frown formed on my face. Placing the notebook down peacefully, I looked up at Corina who was holding back tears.

I sighed.

“When—” but then I choked on my words and couldn’t get the words out.

“Five,” she said.

I looked down at my watch. Four pm.

What a surprise. Of course. Right. Well, it was… coming. Every meeting was savored as if it were the last.

But it had to come eventually.

Corina chose to play this final game out normally. Have it her way.

I was going to be fine. We both knew it. Maybe it was time to get over this whole charade.

And maybe my wallet would be spared too for all this grocery money I was spending.

“What a shame,” I finally managed to squeak, embarrassingly. “I don’t know what I’m going to do with all this free time not spent cooking—”

She leaned in and kissed me on the cheek. It was just a little peck.

“Aidan,” she called me by name for the first time. “I wish you could see yourself the way I see you.”

She smiled.

“I’m going to miss you and your food.”

I shuddered. This wasn’t real, I knew it. I was hallucinating this all this entire time, and as a cruel joke, my mind is making me feel affection towards an imaginary being. I will resist with all my might at this foolish charade.

My arms wrapped around nothing, and it was just me. I squeezed at myself with all the pent-up frustration of a house dog left to sit alone for days and days.

“You fool…” I said. “You fool, Aidan. She meant five seconds.”