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…5th floor hallway of our apartment building is unusually quiet, cold
There should be people coming and going from their homes
There should be audible noise disturbing the peace
He’s tactful, despite the fact he’s been loosely bolted to the paper thin walls of social norms his whole life,
I’m just the glass menagerie someone desperately placed onto his shelf

He’s holding a hammer in his hand
The absent tool belt tells me it’s not for construction
I contemplate escape,
but am sucked in by the two black holes protruding from his face and I surrender…
Perhaps the art of survival is losing the battle before it begins.

Britta B.

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