I've been stressed lately.  Combined with being ill and getting no sleep, the end result has been a real bummed Ivory.  Call me crazy, but I just had the oddest sensation...  I've written it down to the best of my ability from a third-person format (also as a guy's POV -- don't know why) -- unfortunately, I waited an entire day to do so.  Ah, well...

 

The joke struck him as funny, so he laughed.  At first, the laughs were loud.  Head thrown back and eyes squinted shut, he guffawed along with the rest.  His was a loud, short laugh, sudden and strained.  Typically, he laughed for no more than a few seconds – but, now, it went on.

 

The sound of his laughter dried up quickly, suppressed by the pressure of his chest and the heaving of the generous fat along his quivering sides.  Straightening in his chair, the tears on his face surprised him.  The salty substance had already drenched his face and had begun leaking into his mouth.  He used both hands to wipe the moisture from his cheeks, then the dribble of snot from his nose.  Still, he laughed.

 

It would dawn on him later that it wasn’t that funny.  But, now, he laughed. 

 

As he laughed, something bubbled up inside him.  It was in his chest, and, as he laughed silently, it rose.  It travelled through him and lodged in his throat.  In his laughter, he sought to identify the pressure.  He had felt it before, long ago, but no name came to him.

It was a strange sensation.  The laughter continued, and the pressure in his throat swelled.  Yet, for all this, he was clear-headed.  It was as though someone had hijacked his body and left it on the laughter setting.  The laughter made him feel impassive; he did not want to stop laughing, nor did he want to continue.  Observing himself from such a distance, he simply and curiously floated.

 

Recognition came to him suddenly.  That feeling in his throat threatened to spill out into his laughter.  He knew it now – it was an urge to cry.  It was not a few tears, no, but the desire to bawl as children do.  Already, he knew his face was contorting in preparation, and he was alarmed at the remarkably easy transition from laughter to such tears.

 

For a moment, he considered just letting it come.  Already, the sob was building and pushing, and he could feel it spill out of his mouth before he could stop it.  How embarrassing, he thought, to cry here, in front of everyone.

 

The thought sobered him.  He closed his throat and pressed his lips together tightly, reaching for a handkerchief to hide his face in.  The laughter and sobs vanished, as though they had never blended into one.  Gingerly, he dabbed at the salty moisture on his face then blew his nose once into the cloth.

 

A queer sensation, he thought as he put his handkerchief away.  So this must be what it is to go mad.