As you enter this morning, feel the weight of your bones. They are your only anchor. Wash the night’s salt from your eyes. Above, the wind beats against the ribs of the sky – the only sound worth your attention. Step onto the cold threshold. Do not seek names for your footsteps. Just walk.
Put on a tie or a mask. Play the role of father, master, teacher. Be a virtuoso, but feel the collar chafing your neck. I feel that touch too. Forget the label on your chair – it is dead plastic. Maintain the distance of a sniper: see every micro-crack on the faces around you, and push the emptiness out of your lungs. This is not theater. This is the countdown of hours until the end of the shift.
Look at the one across from you. He is suffocating just the same in a labyrinth of adverbs, unable to reach the verb. Do not judge him for those borrowed grimaces – he fears the silence that stands behind them. You are both standing on the same blade. I do not know if it will hold the three of us.
When the rhythm of the moment converges with your pulse – do not ask. Just fall into that malfunction. There are no rules there, no concrete, not even a “you.” Only the dry residue of warmth you guarded in your fists. I do not know if it will ignite. But we have no other way to warm this morning.