Short scene — “Transit in E”

The room hums like a runway. A single point of light hovers at eye level, bright as a cursor waiting for the future to start.
Engines spool: 1–2–3–4, then you’re moving—clean, relentless. The corridor is cobalt and glass, doors rushing past like thoughts you don’t need anymore. Every kick lays a tile ahead; you step onto it and the world lengthens.

A break opens—gravity loosens. The walls breathe out into a star map, thin blue lines folding into a mandala. You float for four, maybe eight, hearing the quiet shape of the machine that got you here: hands on knobs, minds on patterns, your own pulse agreeing.

Engines catch again. The corridor narrows and sharpens; speed returns but the edges stay kind. You tilt forward, not falling—arriving. Landmarks blur into a single, steady horizon.

When the lights finally widen and the floor stills, you’re carrying a thin wire of dawn in your chest. It hums at 152, clear and certain, pointing you through the first door of the day.

WE&P by: EZorrillaMc.