It was an ordinary day.
East Norriton where I work.
O, sanctuary from the rain!
I had this feeling walking up to the door,
as if doom espoused with terrible luck.
As if the human soul has given complete submission
to the cosmos and fate.
I don’t believe in fate,
or think that I am the only human that has ever experienced this feeling,
but stepping into the vestibule,
among the fresh greens and toppings,
and the scant other diners,
it hit me.
A wash of unexplainable depth.
Like the Mariana’s Trench birthing a schism
deep into the mantle
and possibly more;
or something like that.
Or at the very least
a slow whirlpool,
like the kind that forms at a shower drain.
It left my organs indiscriminate of pain,
as if my nerves shut the lights off for a moment,
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