there was an ordinary air yet irregular volume.
a ringing drowning out the hum of metal machinery.
punching binary figures.
Had you noticed the behaviour of some legs and arms in a car parked in the middle of the road.
it was ignored as a determined pace lends well to distance.
a postbox absorbs a vacant mind with stale thought.
it's a quiet irregular air. yet not alone.
Over ones shoulder it can feel like shivers up your spine. A grey figure roaming.
they're caught in a gravitational pull. empty eyed and lost.
dare not turn and look. Dare not verify existence
keep good pace, keep pressing forward.
Destination. fumble the keys in the gate like portcullis of the fort.
like a giants needle in your back you feel the distance close,
not a moment to soon, slip inside between the metal gate and stone wall.
The key swiftly clicks the whole affair behind. Safe inside.
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