Doorknob + Flowers
Sitting on the kitchen bench withering away in a beautiful silence, quietly, gently, in a handsome slumber staring out into the world beyond through the glass window. The doorknob, it was cold, hard, metallic, I touched it and froze, the air like a lead balloon. It never felt so cold to touch, drench in the icy depths of the ocean arms, the air was heavy, like a lead balloon and the world stopped, trapped in time for the moment. I couldn’t take another step; I just couldn’t take another step. The thud that my hand had made on the door handle as it refused to budge echoed, like a lone child trapped in a cave dropping her lunchbox. It seemed to have bounced off invisible waves. That moment was traced and memorised in the back of my mind, the unforeseen.