I woke up to find a pearl had formed on my tongue

I woke up to find a pearl had formed on my tongue. Cold, hard, smooth, it rolled around in my mouth, clinking against my teeth, heavy. I tried spitting it out but it wouldn’t budge, and it was too large to swallow. It kept slipping from my fingers, wet and slimy, a metal ball of soap. Tasteless- or, could I hear soft roaring sighs in my ears at night? Waves of longing, a foreign cacophony of screams, light years away, as distant and empty as the stars. Every day after that one the pearl grew, rolling around less, rattling less, speaking less. This valuable, worthless object growing, while shrinking my speech and breath. Every word a struggle until this iridescent and grotesque, enlarged sphere of sea silver filled me with the fear of choking. It had reached the point of no return, the ending was inevitable. Perhaps the other side would offer release from whispering screams and engorged jewels. I touch the pearl trapped inside and with all the force of my fingers, push and push within me to swallow and —