Down the hall the dryer is running
It makes a perfect rhythm.
Thump thump thump.
I walk past it down the hall and try not to let my steps fall in time with it.
Thump thump thump.
But the rhythm is so perfect that it’s hard not to. I have to concentrate and step in odd times.
Thump thump thump.
And what am I doing? Why is this a war I’m trying to win? What’s the endgame? Am I going to be the lord and master of the hallway?
There’s two ways to go on the edge of a vortex. Into. Out of.
And to hang there, in between two forces, the forces pulling me out, the forces sucking me in, that’s where I’ve been.
Teetering between something and nothing, between the thumping down the hall and the odd steps away from it.
Scared of the vortex, scared of the void.
Thump thump thump.
