(X sits through hours of PowerPoint slides then leaves)
I put my coat on in the red room, arm by arm. Everyone hears the scrape of fabric against fabric and looks for the cause. Walls shrink away but the light hangs on. It shakes out its mantle, moves particles around. It performs frog in a blender, trees on fire in the dark seen from an airplane, ground cayenne, the other side of a gun. Someone in the corner coughs into their handkerchief and breaks the spell. I wish there were red hats for the rest of us to wear like pale, pricked fingers. We’d all come together, make hands, and shake them.