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nnyThe walls are too high for ceilings to exist, endless, grey and horizon bending, but you are settled neatly in the felt-lined square that is just too small to stretch your legs, trapped in place by the awkwardly placed bundle of wires. Every page you load takes just moments too long, constant quiet irritation that slowly wears your teeth away. The air is tight across your shoulders and you can’t take a deep enough breath; just have to get through the five minutes to go.
(It’s not that you don’t know the clock is stopped.
Just… can’t think about this.
Forever.)
(It’s not that you don’t know the clock is stopped.
Just… can’t think about this.
Forever.)
