On the first day the presence is palpable
Like the feeling of someone staring at you
Or like the fly caught behind the curtains.
There, but manageable.
Not necessarily unwanted
But certainly out of place.
After another day it’s unsettling
Something setting teeth on edge
Like nails raked across a dusty chalkboard.
A thing taking up space
In your head and in your heart
But still unmovable.
By the third day the tension thickens
Like the air after a summer storm
Humid and filled with electricity.
Every word threatens
A painful shock.
Every breath draws
Hesitation and wondering.
Every moment promises
Heartache and pain.
Three days, days in which the presence grows
Becomes a weight, a stench
Written as a response to Trifextra challege Week 24.