The Room Is Closing In
The room is closing in. It starts like it always does- a whisper, a prickle under my skin, a thought I wasn’t supposed to have. But now it’s here, and it won’t leave. The room is closing in. My chest is a locked door, and someone’s thrown away the key. Breathing feels borrowed, my ribs caving in like a house sinking into itself. I claw at the edges of calm, but my hands find nothing. The room is closing in. It clings to my spine, a second shadow that twists and tightens. My pulse races like it’s trying to outrun me. It wins every time. And I am left, stumbling after myself. The room is closing in. The walls pulse like a heartbeat, steady and relentless, but it isn’t mine. The air tastes wron...