Vico floats.
His shoulder presses against the wall next to the tv so he pushes off, spinning slowly up to land with his back against the ceiling. The row of overhead lights are a foot away and he holds out his hand to watch the blood marching through his veins in orange silhouette, smiling at the thought of the tiny workers rushing around day in and day out while he gets to spend his time lighter than air. The bulbs are inset and he hooks his fingers into the cylinders to pull himself along the ceiling, back bumping lightly against the flat surface like a lost balloon. Too late he realizes he’s picking up speed, and the momentum sends him flying into the broad expanse of the apartment’s glass wall. He gasps in terror as wild vertigo seizes hold of him, convinced in that moment that he’s going to smash through, careening out into empty space and then upward, upward into overwhelming nothingness, only to freeze among the clouds or burn up in the sun or drift away alone forever.
But the glass holds without so much as a scratch, and when he pinwheels his arms and propels himself away, the fear fades back into the pleasant haze of intoxication. He lands on the couch and stays there, sprawled with one leg thrown over the back and one arm hooked beneath a cushion to hold himself down. When he reaches for the pills scattered on the low coffee table they float away from his questing fingers, but he’s able to snatch one errant capsule from midair as it turns end over end. It crunches between his teeth and he sighs happily, letting his hand drift upwards again because it just feels so effortless.
He should give some of his pills to his new friend, Vico decides as his eyelids drift lower and his grip on the couch cushion loosens. He can’t remember her name… Jessica? Jenni… Kim? No, those are wrong. Maybe she’d like to float around, especially since she’s always in that wheelchair. He’d have to ask her. He’d have to….
As his hand drops to the floor his breathing evens out and his head lolls to one side. The pills lie on the table where they’ve been strewn since he’d dumped them out of their plastic baggy, and the sun creeps across the sky outside. Inside the dimly-lit apartment the draculoid lies motionless with his eyes half open and glazed, a faint smile on his face as he floats around the room, lighter than air.
