Ripping

I tried to be the kind of person

who moves through a room like a ghost,

but then I had to adjust the brace.

The velcro strap didn't just pull—

it screamed. A long, dry rip

that made the woman with the clipboard flinch.

The tiny plastic teeth are aggressive.

One of them caught the edge of my hangnail,

peeling back a sliver of skin

until I saw a small bead of red.

The sound stayed in the air long after

the strap was tight. Everyone looked at us,

at his heavy boot and my shaking hands,

and I just stared at the beige carpet

waiting for the silence to grow back.