Paper Weight

It’s strange. For a moment it felt like I was standing outside my body. Like I was me, and her, and some sort of neutral observer at the same time. Maybe it was just a literary device.

“What happened?” I waded into the mess of paper, feeling carefully with my feet. “Did the file cabinets spontaneously explode or something?”

I felt the papers shift as she waded in, looking for me. Her voice was muffled by the weight of the pages. I couldn’t make out what she said. “Here! I’m down here! Oh please!” I felt the words pressing down on me. The words seemed to have a weight all their very own, like they were even heavier than the paper.

What a way to go. Drowned out by someone else’s words.

The woman tossed sheets of paper aside, rummaging for the other woman. She stopped in the middle of the room, burrowing down through the pile, reaching for the other’s hand.

Then with a scream, she was suddenly pulled under. The surface of the paper pile rustled for a moment, then all was still again.

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