I was in bed. It shook. Wobble, wobble. Like it was on vibrate. Suddenly. Through me. The house made noises, momentarily, as though in pain. "Ahhh! oh!" Kind of high pitched. "Wah!" A whine. Something straining. The likes of which I'd not heard before. The earth moved.
I messaged Sam. Did you feel that? What? he asked. He didn't clearly. Like an earth quake? No, I was upstairs ironing, too busy with washing. I felt nothing. I didn't think being upstairs would make any difference. I was upstairs, after all. Maybe Sam's modern town house was more flexible. Maybe my 130 year old house was stiffer in the hips. I couldn't believe he didn't feel anything.
I liked the feeling. I wanted it to it again. I wondered if the plaster had cracked? I wondered if the world had changed? I thought of Christchurch. I wondered if we could expect more? I thought about the tectonic plates? I assumed they couldn't have changed. I wanted the earth to shake again. It would just be fun, not destructive. I think.
Wobble. Wobble.
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