Deep Thoughts: Sitting There

the chair breathed her as you satt in it. creaked and swiveled with the motion of her thoughts. softly. quiet. but never silent.

the walls looked at with the stern gaze they always have. faceless eyes wearing shadows like mascara.

the cigarette died and she lit another. because she could. isn't every decision made that same way. not for choice, but because of circumstance. and the ticks of habit that bloat fetched into the deepest veins as they float so close to the surface of your skin.

the chair positioned itself under her condolences as the funeral in her head proceeded gracefully toward the burial grounds.

a hole in the earth. deep enough to hold. a stone to mark when it had ended.

and shortly after she knew, life would go on, just as it always did.

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