Knowing

I know I am different. I see others walking around without a thought or care, with no self-awareness or knowledge of who they are or what they are doing, lost in their own little world. But I am aware. I see, feel, hear, and smell my surroundings, yet I am separate from it. 

I don’t think I’m supposed to know these things, but somehow I do. 

A face peers down at me from the broad expanse above. “Oh, what a disgusting creature,” says a voice. “I hate caterpillars.” A boot descends toward me — large, hideous, terrifying — and everything goes black. 

*****

Micro-fiction, 100 words