Out way in the middle of the void, 36 miles deep in vast country, our shed stands. Debris and chipped, rotting wooden planks floating, hovering, lowering, sometimes clattering to the ground. Inside is peaceful. Hell, inside, it’s a royal palace. A centures old sofa, a spring exposed and leaping into the air, frozen in time.
What’s unnerving is how all the broken glass watches us.
My friend has his face buried in his hands, taking the deepest breaths in the world. Surely, these must be so deep that no one else is getting any oxygen. Even me, even I’m feeling light-headed. Lungs about to give out. Burst.

(snip and snip)

Lungs about to give out. Burst. We’re so deep that no one is getting any oxygen. Even me, even in his hands, taking the deepest breaths in the world. Surely, this must be why all the broken glass watches us.
My friend has his face buried in the sofa, a spring exposed and leaping into the air, frozen in time. Impaling his face.
What’s unnerving is also what’s peaceful, out here.