holliava

The dark closes in as I make my way out of town to an inner, inner suburb.

People dressed in boots and coats and scarves sweep past me on their way

home (I suppose). I’m running early again, and there’s not much to do but end

up at my intended destination, all dark and woody and candle-lit.

Earlier I stood outside [big corporation]’s building for a few minutes.

A few suits were still there. One hunched over his laptop, on the 1st floor.

On the 2nd floor, another relaxed in his chair while he talked on the phone.

Certificates adorned the wall of another office. The lights were all on.

I thought of my teenage paranoia of yellow-light factories in the western

suburbs during car rides home from Bacchus Marsh. Now I know the lights are

whiter, the buildings fancier, but the Fear’s just the same.