0gomobies | 90% LEGIT |

He bounced off the ceiling and drifted lazily around the room. He knocked over a lamp; it fell, but he didn't care. He felt a profound sense of detachment. Why had he cared about the lamp? Why had he cared about the job? Why had he cared about her ?

The shopkeeper sighed, setting down the jar. He reached under the counter and produced a small, lead-lined box. He opened it carefully. Inside sat a sphere, but unlike the golden glow of the others, this one was a shifting, pearlescent grey. It didn't sit still; it rattled against the glass, trying to float upward. 0gomobies

He laughed, and the sound was strange, echoey, and distant. He pushed off the bedframe and drifted toward the ceiling. It was effortless. The crushing pressure in his chest was gone. The memories were still there, but they felt like photographs in a museum—distant, observed, but not felt. He bounced off the ceiling and drifted lazily

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He began to rise.

His hand passed through the mist. He realized, with a sudden, jolt of panic that was quickly smothered by the drug, that he couldn't stop.