Confinement in Small Spaces

The metal lock scraped as the door slid shut.

Voices fell to whispers thin as smoke,

words sharp, raw, spilling just beyond the wall.

I held my breath, too close to silence.

Muffled sobs stained the air—bitter and cramped,

a secret wrestling with itself in that tight space.

The door creaked, a pause, then quiet—

as if the world outside forgot it was listening.

I stayed frozen, knowing some stories

curl like smoke in cramped, cracked rooms,

where walls are paper-thin and pain is loud,

a whispered fight locked behind a stall door.