By the time he reached his car, his fingers and toes were tingling. The streetlights cast a sick yellow filter on the chilly early-fall evening. Harry let the Kaiser Traveler warm up before navigating it home through the dark streets of Cleveland. The car was a current model, purchased to accommodate a large future family. The thought of filling the back with fishing gear reaffirmed his newfound decision to spend more time at home.
He felt lighter. It was as if he couldn’t feel the upholstery at all. In fact, when he looked down at his hand, he could swear he saw right through it to the top of the gearshift clutched beneath. It was no illusion – there was most definitely less of him. In shock, he tried slamming on the brake. The Kaiser kept careening down the street. His foot had simply disappeared. Soon, the other foot disappeared as well, and he controlled the coasting car as best he could using the steering wheel alone. The steel beast was finally stopped by a large elm on the edge of the parkway. Harry, or what was left of him, was thrown against the dash with force. The only saving grace was that little of his torso remained, so there was less to injure. He could see his heart, levitating between his arms. With his stronger hand, he gripped the sill and propelled himself through the open driver’s side window. He laid his head on the grass, still able to feel the relief its cool dampness. He couldn’t even gasp, for his mouth was becoming a memory as well.