The first thing Mark noticed, stepping off the plane in Denver, was the silence.
He lay on the hotel bed, staring at the ceiling. He tried a hot shower, letting steam curl into his ear canals. He chewed gum until his jaw ached. He lay on his side, then the other, then on his back with a pillow wedged under his neck. Nothing. ears popping after flight
He nodded, a small, pathetic motion.
He bought both. In his room, he sprayed the saline up each nostril, tilted his head back, and waited. He drank the lukewarm coffee—lukewarm because he couldn’t be bothered with the in-room brewer’s instructions. The first thing Mark noticed, stepping off the
The hotel elevator became a pressure chamber. As it rose to the sixth floor, the slight change made his left ear squeal—a high, thin whistle that only he could hear. He pressed a finger to his tragus, wiggling it, desperate. A trick he’d read online. For a second, the world snapped into crystal clarity: the whir of the elevator fan, the rustle of his jacket, the distant ding of a floor below. Then the clarity vanished, swallowed back into the grey. He chewed gum until his jaw ached
Now, standing in the jet bridge, Mark was a man in a bubble. He swallowed. Nothing. He yawned theatrically, jaw cracking wide. A faint, distant click , like a key turning in a lock a mile away, but no relief. His own footsteps sounded like padded thuds.
He lay down again. Closed his eyes. Breathed.