The Way Gravity Works

They fall because that's the way gravity works, pushing everything downward in a slow dance toward an inevitable death. The laws of physics are nobody's fault. There is no blame to assign, although some may shake their fists and yell, “Damn you, universe!” as they fall.

Here's a question worth considering: When is the last time you heard a tree complain? Think about it.

“Geez, my roots ache and my leaves are getting thin. I've been in this ground too long. And what the hell is with all these squirrels? Go shit on someone else for a change.”

Maybe that happens all the time and we just don't know. Nobody around here speaks tree.

If they can talk, hopefully their conversations are less mundane, less human. God forbid they should veer into political discourse, or whatever passes for such nowadays.

Sometimes a situation calls for gravity. Other times, levity is needed. The former is easier to achieve, while the latter requires a certain suspension of disbelief in physics. Actually, it requires a suspension of physics itself.

That's the assumption, anyway. Do you know anyone who has levitated? Really levitated? Like, not just gotten high in a different sense and started talking to trees?

A man is drinking on the bus. Someone else is smoking weed. They are levitating without defying the laws of physics.

“Are you drinking, sir?” asks the driver, pulling over to let him out if so.

“No,” he replies, then changes it to yes and apologizes, promising it won't happen again.

She keeps driving. The scent of weed wafts through the air.

“Hey,” asks the formerly drinking man, “is that you with the herb?”

No, it is not. His face falls like ashes from a joint, because that's the way gravity works.