I push forward, but the thing behind closes the distance: fear personified, illusion turned true. It pulls me down, and I fight back as hard as I can, but it is simply too strong. I start to sink. Laughter turn into gasps. I try to scream, but only half-hearted bubbles rise to the surface.
And she, trembling, pulled a black plastic bag from under the robot vacuum’s wheels—it lifted itself, ever so slightly, almost as if thrusting its imaginary arms in the air.