“Hi, I’ll take a large caramel macchiato. Whole is fine. Thank you.” He hands over a 5 and walks to the end of the counter to wait for his order. Glancing around the small shop he notices it’s awfully empty. “Weird.” He thinks to himself. “I guess I came around a good time though. Beat the early morning crowd.”

After a few minutes his drink slides onto the counter. “Large macchiato!” With a smile to the barista, he grabs his drink. “Thanks.” He stuffs his hands into his coat pockets and takes a sip of his coffee. His face visibly sours. “I don’t think they made it right, or the milk has gone bad. Should I let them know?” He turns to face the barista only for no one to be there. “Huh.” Turning away in confusion, he leaves the shop.

He pulls his scarf tighter, bracing for the cold. Only for there to be no wind. And no cold. “What is going on?” He whispers, but it’s more of a shout. A whisper shout. There’s snow covering the ground, and falling gently from the sky in small flurries. Yet it isn’t cold, and there isn’t wind.

Why is the world moving, and he can’t feel it?

You never really could before though, could you?