Alex decided on a strategy of extreme, terrified normalcy.
His parents, Mr. and Mrs. Peterson, were creatures of habit. Dad would make coffee and read the business section at 7:30 AM sharp. Mom would prepare breakfast and review her teaching notes at 7:45 AM. His mission: survive the morning routine without accidentally making the toaster fly.
He took a deep, shaky breath and forced his feet onto the floor. The world felt loud. The power still thrummed, and he realized it wasn't just moving things; it felt like he could hear the faint gravitational pull on every object in the room. He could sense the tension in the springs of his mattress, the slight give of the wooden floorboards.
Control, he commanded himself, clamping down on his hands. Don't let anything float.