(no subject)
there's a rug in the corner. wound loosely around itself and leaned against a closet door. piles of identity-lacking objects lie around it: the base of a lamp, the frame of a chair. at indefinite intervals, the whole collection shifts with a restless groan and unbearable shuffling sounds.
it could be gravity, but i suspect that some shifty sort(maybe a murderer or robber or rapist) is taking refuge in my closet. i feel sorry for him, trapped in cluttered darkness and claustrophobia. i'll leave the light on for him when i leave the room, maybe that'll help him avoid causing further clatter.
(i wish him luck in a hushed whisper and wander out the door.)
it could be gravity, but i suspect that some shifty sort(maybe a murderer or robber or rapist) is taking refuge in my closet. i feel sorry for him, trapped in cluttered darkness and claustrophobia. i'll leave the light on for him when i leave the room, maybe that'll help him avoid causing further clatter.
(i wish him luck in a hushed whisper and wander out the door.)