I thought about it again today. I tell myself

I thought about it again today. I tell myself it is always there. I don't need to entertain it. Like I have anything to entertain it. Here, have this ball of angst.

What a heft, an emotional weight. Once you've got it, it won't go away. I try to hand it off to whomever will listen, and I awake each morning, this writhing ball still in hand.

Why will nobody take it away? I think this writhing ball is feeding off me. There, did you see how it seemed smug right now. I need to get free of it. But how?

Sure, calm indifference might have made the writhing ball grow bored and leave to find someone else to batten upon, but I was panicking by then. I ran into a crowd of phone zombies

and it followed me with languid slowness, maddening in its unswerving trajectory towards me. I fled, it bounced after, having nothing else to writhe about.

"Why do people always put large picture windows at the end of slippery halls?" I asked myself as the glass erupted from the sheer force of my body against it. For a moment I felt

warm blood soaking my clothes because my femoral artery got sliced, then I thought "I feel funny", then I died. I don't remember hitting the pavement though". The devil looked at

me with suspicion & circled me, his long red fingernail raking over my pale cheek. "Sure," Satan growled. "Listen, kid, do you think I was born yesterday?! YOU...You're a SPY!" I

I bowed. "I stand discovered!" I cry out and slap Satan's face. "I can't believe it took you so long to figure it out." With flames in his eyes, Satan disappeared.