Before the Quiet Falls

Fingertips numb, clutching the chipped mug,

the ceramic cold as the room shrank down

and buzzed with fluorescent hums

like distant thunder.

My breath caught in shallow caves,

a tightening coil that wouldn’t unwind,

fingers white-knuckled

around the edge of calm.

The world tilted, a slow slide

into a silence thick as fog,

and the mug slipped,

half-forgotten,

in the pause before the fall.