Submitted by ebeMajor on Tue, 02/27/2018


I feel it coming. Do I know it? Of course I don't yet I'm expecting it anxiously. No sound but I can feel it. It will creep under the door which I keep close, just in case. It will reach me every moment now. I'm sweating. Minutes are tickling away yet it isn't showing. Playing tricks on me, eh? You nasty one! A smell like I were back at school, waiting to be caught unaware, it's wasn't me, it wasn't me! Taste your waiting, trust it. Touch it, bandy it, juggle with perception. Nothing happens. I stand up and wonder. Maybe I was too late. Maybe it will not come, after all. At this prospect my heartbeats gets quicker, my blood rushes to my ears, it rumbles; it will bursts into a thunder, were I a cloud. Which I'm not. Or maybe I am. Where you feel like this, it's hard to remember who you are. Well, who am I? Why am I sitting here, standing here, walking in circles here? What am I supposed to do? There's a knock at the door. I wasn't expecting a visit. Who can it be now?