I didn’t recognize the feeling as fear until the fridge started to shake, the beer bottles on top clanking together like wind chimes. Was this an earthquake? “The” earthquake? It almost felt like meeting a celebrity. Aren’t you that natural disaster that we’ve been warned for decades was going to swallow Vancouver whole? I recognize your rumbling and potential for utter destruction and forced exposition of humanity in its rawest state from the news.
But what if it’s just my downstairs neighbours playing Dance Dance Revolution and I slid under my coffee table for no reason and have now missed an integral part of Making a Murderer? Even under the table the room continued to shake. I strained to see the television while Netflix let me know that the next episode would start in 5, 4, 3, 2––