“Gravity started reversing. It happened slowly, in increments day by day. At first you’d hang for just a second longer than usual at the apex of a jump. Feathers and dust and the broken nibs of pencils refused point-blank to fall. Water wobbled slowly from the tap like golden syrup. I thought it was fun when I found that I could jump from the top of the stairs and drift gently down through the air like a seed.”
A story about a strange occurrence. Published in Popshot. Read online or purchase a copy here.