Dark swearing eyes stared back at me. My questions bounced off like hail on an aluminum roof. Nothing penetrated despite the din. The audible frustration made me wince and with that, my blood was in the water. Circling around with louder shouts, I had no armor to repel the assault. Trapped inside my own logic, I had no answer for the barrage. Quitting the room, I looked back with insulted regret. Given another chance I would have held my own. It only this. If only that. The same story, I am unable to draw blood consciously. Passive, hoping my whisper will one day penetrate the bedlam that invariably ensues.
Walking down the hall, doors open in to caverns inhabited by cabals, feeding into my paranoia. I tread gingerly hoping to avoid casting my shadow across the crack in the door for fear of drawing attention. But always it follows one step behind me, mocking my efforts to elude. But at last I reach my own door, managing to obviate the dangers between, I can feel relief washing over with a restless surge, almost to the point of discomfort. My hand feels clammy as I grasp the brass of the knob and turn towards fate. And before it is ajar, I know you are gone. The feeling fills my lungs and stretches down past my pelvis to my knees. And as I crumple, one word bounces off my mind against the cold stone wall staring back at me.
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