Microfice

calloused hands gently sat me into place
a long time ago, after the interior of the house
was cleaned and newly painted for a young
couple with a baby to move into, scratching
my back with the tip of a singular nail, i shivered
as the frigid wall behind me pressed against
my back, the elder man looked back at me, as my
glazed eye forever stared back at him, and past him,
to see the room, my new scenery, better than
the bathroom that i previously occupied, i thought to
myself, as the man began rubbing my eye with a pocket
clothe in an futile attempt to remove the scratches
that have caused me to slowly go blind, i hold my breath
as the man adjusted his tie and pat down his
hair and frowned at his wrinkles, only to cause more
wrinkles, his face turned red and his breathing becomes
heavier as he becomes frustrated with the way that he looks
to me, i wonder what he’s doing, i think, as the man takes me
back off of the nail in the wall and holds me above his head,
showing me a new image, a new wall to the room that i’m being
held in, the wall is white and bubbly and plain, it doesn’t faze me, i
began falling, slowly at first, cautiously, hesitantly, and then the man
followed through with his decision and let me shatter on the hard pine
wood flooring, and for the first time in my life, i felt my eye close.





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