“Can you feel it?”
He heard the words.
Three times they sang them:
Rising to a crescendo from the speakers.
He could feel something, but
He’d be damned if he was
Going to admit it today,
So, he stood slowly, like
His spine was a platinum rod,
Strode over to the wall,
Lowered himself from the knees and
Pulled the plug.
As he straightened up, carelessly dropping said plug,
He wondered if, somewhere across the world,
The ones left could feel his rejection.
He hoped not.
It wasn’t their fault, after all.