Friday

It's quiet here.
The world is on pause.
I can see it from my window, if I want.
It's still and empty.

The bathroom fan makes a constant hiss.
It's distracting and irritating but perfect white noise.

The questions I get asked are much more sensible than usual:
Do I have any children, any pets? Did I leave the gas on? How long is my hair? Do I get violent when I'm angry?

I make my bed, even though it's so absurdly redundant.

The one bit of order I can in still on my world.
The extent of my ability to interact with the world.

It's quiet and still here, and the table is perfectly designed with a small, cramped dark space underneath it.

When the world unpauses, it'll will run in fast forward to catch up.
But the world I can see for now is quiet, and still, and empty.