A Life Transparent Read Online Free PDF Page B

a spoonful, his hand dimmed and flashed out of reality. A quick jerk in his gut startled him. He dropped the spoon, startling Mr. Precious Paws out of his reverent stare, and frowned as the cat scampered away.
    For a moment the room went gray, and the pull in his stomach exerted such force that he cried out in pain. He blinked tears from his eyes and stared about the room. Its warmth was gone, replaced with a stagnant, cold grayish tone that seemed to cover every surface. Donna was cast in its hue as she poured herself a bowl of cereal.
    He blinked. Color returned to the room.
    “Donna,” he whispered, “there is something wrong.”
    She flipped through the morning newspaper, seemingly oblivious to his statement. He reached down, picked up his spoon, then leaned forward to stare at his wife.
    “Donna.”
    Nothing. Not so much as a raised eyebrow.
    Mr. Precious Paws wandered over, stood on his hind legs, and scratched at Donovan’s knee. He yelped, startled by the prickle of the cat’s claws, and kicked his leg. The cat yowled and slid across the kitchen floor, colliding against the cabinetry with a soft thump.
    “Don’t kick the cat.”
    He looked back at his wife. She glared at him, her lips pulled into a frown. He held up his trembling hands and twiddled his fingers.
    “Look at this,” he said flatly. All ten digits vacillated between solidity and transparency.
    She strained to look at him. After a moment of eye contact, Donna put a hand to her temple and began to rub.
    “What?”
    “This,” he said, and recoiled as his hands flashed in and out of existence. He’d been faced with the sight for almost half an hour now, but it was something he doubted he’d ever get used to. How could he? To see one’s own self fading away like a ghost was unnerving, unsettling—it only happened in the movies, not in reality, yet even on film it carried an element of startling horror.
    “Sorry.” She rubbed at her temple and went back to the newspaper. “I have a headache, and you aren’t helping.”
    His heart dropped into his stomach.
She can’t see
, he realized. He placed both hands on his knees and frowned. Had he finally snapped? Was this hallucinatory transparency just the first step? He wondered if other strange mental anomalies would follow—strange, impossible delusions like flying elephants or a perceived ability to walk through walls.
    He tried to work out what was happening to him, but all he could do was stare at his skin, at the way it faded and filled with a flesh-colored static. His vision danced from a full spectrum of color to cold shades of gray. This effect lasted only for a fraction of a second, but was obvious enough for him to notice. Color-blindness along with insanity? He grew so distracted by these disturbing possibilities that time slipped by him. Donna snapped him out of these troubled musings.
    “Don,” she said, “you’re going to be late.”
    “Late?” He scrambled to his feet. “What time—”
    His eyes fell upon the microwave clock. It read 8:05 in large, digital numbers.
    “Oh hell.”
    Donovan quickly kissed his wife’s cheek, grabbed his keys, and darted out the door.
    •  •  •
     
    Donna was puzzled by the exchange. She sat back in her seat and rubbed at her temples once more. It was an ungodly headache. It sliced through her thoughts with measured, low throbs.
    Her husband’s behavior meandered on the strange side of things.
It’s just stress
, she told herself.
Just stress over his review—
    A drone of noise surged through her head, filling it with an interminable buzzing. She lost her concentration. For a moment she stared off into space, lost in a white, agonizing static. Finally, after a few seconds, the buzzing stopped. Donna looked about the room, then down at her feet. Mr. Precious Paws stared up at her.
    “What’s up, Paws?”
    The cat blinked. Donna reached down and scratched between his ears.
    “Good kitty.”
    She went back to her reading. The