July 30, 2016

“The floors were dustier now. The dust crunched beneath my feet as I walked. The dust was gritty, like sand. It mounded in corners, rose up the bottoms of the walls. I brushed the dust with my hands but the dust returned. The dust powdered my shoulders and hair. It dusted my clothing. I swept the dust but it made no difference. I swept dust from dust. I tilted my head towards the ceiling and the dust was there. It spilled onto me. It was on my face. It fell into my mouth. That constant, streaming dust. It rained down. It caught in the gray light and swirled…”

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