One Minute Without Gravity

At first, it felt like a joke. Dust lifted off the ground. Pens floated mid-air.

Then people did. Cars tilted. Birds froze, confused, wings flapping in

nothing. A goalkeeper drifted away from his goalpost, grabbing the net as the stadium gasped.

A cup of chai rose gently, spilling its heat into the air like smoke.

For one quiet minute, the world forgot weight—no pressure, no falling, no limits.

Then gravity returned. Everyone landed at the same time. Some laughed. Some cried.

Some realized how fragile balance really was. And from that day on,

people walked slower—remembering how close everything is to floating away.