stairwell

Your shadow died on the stairs. You couldn't wait to get home, but then your key broke in the keyhole. You were stuck outside with your feet placed on a welcome mat that had long ago worn out from welcoming anyone. You snarled. You pawed the doorbell despite knowing no one sat within. You perched on the cold concrete and waited for other people's shadows to die as they left the third floor's light and entered the darkness of the fourth and fifth. You couldn't hold anyone's hand so you wrapped your arms around yourself. Hunched above the dirty cement, you waited. You held half of the broken key and pressed it to your lips. Thinking clearly became a near impossibility.