waiting

time has become tangible. it begins to s t r e t c h, seconds becoming minutes and minutes becoming hours.

i've finished counting the tiles on the floor. there are three hundred and eighty seven of them, chipped and layered with dust. i had traced my fingers along the hairline cracks that ran along their edges. i thought i was being watched, but when i turned around, no one was there.

there never has been.

it's easy to forget that i exist. i hang on by a thread, kept suspended by my thoughts.

how long have i been here? i haven't been here forever, i'm sure of that. sometimes memories pull at my mind, nearly solid, of a place besides here. but i can't remember what took me away.

ashes to ashes, dust to dust. but there's an in-between.

and it's eternity.