Shift

The heat of murmurs. The slip of left behind. A dance through bodies, squelching through sun-soaked walruses thrusting nonchalance into my face. The glass of my response.

‘You can’t join us’, taunts the clinking sloshing, ‘but stop by again’. I moonwalk through the veil of society, to the spark, slash and steel of ‘home’. A home without the snug, wink and flump. My face hits the sink with a clunk. 

The clatter of rejection. The splash of renewal. The roar of daily bread. 

A breeze from beyond the veil carries swirls of obligation. I hear the clink. It calls to me once more.