Breath feathering the toughened glass,
the sob of pistons,
green readouts blinking beneath a lake of condensation;
the lurch -
till the amniotic goo drains from your earholes
and you rehear the slow thrum
of the ship's engines.
It was always there,
like your nose, so that when you notice it,
it is suddenly huge and distracting,
and you have to spend hours
unlearning its lesson.
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