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Lint


I remember the first time I saw the little piece of lint on the floor.

I thought it was a small insect and stepped closer but, bending down and examining it, there was nothing living about it.

I remember that I picked it up and felt it’s furry composition between my thumb and index finger before I decided to ignore it’s existence and just let it fall back to the ground.

It struck me the next day that, seeing it from the corner of my eye, I had mistaken it for something alive yet again.

I picked it up and decided to throw it in the bin this time, brushing the whole thing off as nothing unusual but… odd.

It took me days to realize that I had for some reason begun to avoid the small space on the floor it had occupied. I didn’t look or step there and I certainly didn’t think about it.

It’s ridiculous, really.

Now that I noticed my behaviour and forced myself to look RIGHT THERE, I quite naturally imagined a little movement.

But no, it didn’t move. It’s just a piece of lint.

And, if I wasn’t too lazy to get up, I would have picked it up already.

I am just that lazy, really.

BeneathAllThings

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