Sept. 14, 5:00 PM:
The walls of this place are filled with little creatures.
I can hear them sometimes,
when it gets very quiet,  in the middle of the nights–
They make tiny, feathery, rustling noises–
live origami.
I almost caught one once-
a little paper butterfly with waxed, frosty wings–
but it dissolved once it hit the sunlight.
It was strangely beautiful–
how it exploded into dust and drifted
out the open window
I mentioned the butterfly
to one of the other residents.
She was barely a silhouette of a woman,
with chalky eyes and a distant smile,
and when I told her about the butterfly,
she gasped and promptly melted
into the wallpaper.