I decide to tell her. She seems like she can handle it.
“I believe we are all being sucked into a barely detectable cavity. A very slippery sort of crater. And once we realize we are down there, it will be too late.”
“Can’t we climb out?”
“Our hands and feet don’t have that kind of traction, and our hearts and minds will be too sad to believe in hopeful things, like getting out.”
“We’ll be like one of those gangly millipedes who find themselves drowning in a toilet bowl?” she says.
“Except less panicky. If the millipede can be lethargic and defeated, then yes.”—