Through the Spectrum

Through the Spectrum

The night began calm, steady — just the hum of the lights above, the familiar beep of the scanner, shelves stacked neatly in their rows. I felt present, grounded, breathing slow and even.

But the calm thinned. Voices stacked too quickly, questions overlapping. The scanner’s tone shifted from background to intrusion, each sound sharper than the last. My chest buzzed, restless, like the air itself had turned unstable.

Soon the room pressed in on me — the scrape of boxes, the hum of the fluorescents, the smell of oil and cardboard swelling too thick. My breath shortened, movements stiff, every nerve pulled taut.

And then came the collapse. Words slipped from reach, sound folded into static, my body heavy as stone. The world dulled to black and stillness — shutdown pulling me under, quiet but absolute.