In Pieces, Across the Floor

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When the doorbell rang, I was in the kitchen, reading a book.

It wasn't a particularly interesting book. Rather than dancing, the columns of text stood stiffly across

ring

the page.

But, I did not hate it. Strangely, a soft layer of calm overlaid my line of sight, and

ring

as I read, a

ring

thought came into my head. A perfectly shaped kind of thought, like water

ring ring

that had been moulded at just the right temperature.

I left to open the door. Of course, when I came back, such a thought was in pieces, all over the floor.

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Word Count: 100