Something itched from inside; like cocaine fingers attempting to rip their way out of the gelatinous mold that violently shoved, and dragged me from one hour to the next, while motor skill algorithms frustrate material friction.

Ripping through the horizon, I took one last look and jumped.

The velocity I reached caused ripples in my skin—itchy ripples. I had long stopped worrying about this plummeting business. My heart and stomach resumed normalcy, and I breathed sparingly…calmly.

The itch took priority; it dove bone deep. I scratched, clawed…twisted, and tore at the skin. An orgasm erupted throughout my skin; a thunderclap rattled my awareness. Every chunk and shred I savagely ripped from my body developed its own sensory systems, and I fell in multiple forms: a chunk of scalp, a leg, an ear, a testicle. I fell in multiple forms.