(Guest post by Leah De Forest)

Once or twice a month I get a tiny jump-scare when it occurs to me, afresh, that I’m a creature peering out at the world from inside my own small skull.  

It’s a normal-sized skull, as far as I know—but relative to, say, the circumference of the planet, the size of the Pacific Ocean, North America, Massachusetts, or even the distance between the room in which I’m now sitting and the one in which my dog is barking at some unseen interloper (most likely the long-suffering mail carrier), I am but a tiny dot.