The Bell Jar by Sylvia Plath:
Blue sky opened its dome above the river, and the river was dotted with sails. I readied myself, but immediately my mother and my brother each laid one hand on a door handle. The tires hummed briefly over the grill of the bridge. Water, sails, blue sky and suspended gulls flashed by like an improbable postcard, and we were across.
I sank back in the gray, plush seat and closed my eyes. The air of the bell jar wadded round me and I couldn’t stir.