You are alone. The lack of sunlight and companionship makes fertile soil for the mold. It eats away at the flesh of your walls, leaving tatters that cling pathetically to decaying bones. You wonder vaguely about whether the structure will hold.
Standing at the end of the hallway, you shout to hear a voice bounce back at you. Strange how the _echoes aren't yours_ . You go to the bathroom and bark at your unfamiliar reflection. This should concern you, but you have other things to worry about. The stranger looks back at you. Try to remember. When did you buy this _distorted mirror_?
At the corner of your eye, someone walks past. He is always at the edges of your vision. You anxiously shrug off old childhood fears of the _boogeyman_ under your bed. Not believing means not seeing.
Distant from other gazes, you crouch. How do you exist if no one can see you? You pace the four corners of this room on your hands and knees, circling around endlessly.
At the threshold _between man and animal_, you:
(c) VALS, 2021