It’s For You

The water swirled around the living room, a vortex of furniture, the old ottoman from his mum, the couch he found in an alley (long story,) the lamp left behind by a ‘friend’, and the nightstand that came with the apartment, all of it spinning, counter-clockwise in spite of Coriolis, crashing into the walls, sweeping him along, threatening to suck him down into the abyss that spontaneously erupted when his phone rang and glancing down at the screen, her number appeared, piercing his eyes, and her words echoed in his head even before he answered and released the silence from the other end of the line to puncture his life, descend into the pit, and drag his world down with it.

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