Like the sudden sense of power and confidence you feel when you tell someone your phone number out loud, digit by digit. There’s nothing you own quite as authoritatively as your own phone number.
Like the sudden sense of nostalgia, perhaps of regret, when you run out of things to talk about with your friend at lunch, and the two of you simply stare into the distance, not saying a word, the silence becoming a strange source of tranquility but also of unease.
Like the sudden sense of time stopping, of the world freezing, when traffic comes to a halt for a blaring ambulance whizzing by. Innumerable questions begin rushing through everyone’s heads - who is in that vehicle? Where is the vehicle going? Is everyone alright? - but then the sirens disappear from our view and our pollutant automobiles and our pollutant thoughts continue about their day, as if time had never even hesitated.
Like the sudden sense of simultaneous happiness and sadness you feel when you are sitting on a lawn chair outdoors, reading a French short story, the sun cooking up your shoulders, and you realize that this isolated moment of sheer enjoyment and solitude may never come again.