Concrete and Clay

It started with the stars in the floor, sparkling up at me as my feet clipped the ground. There was nothing vehement in my need to tread quickly but as the sound of plastic being trodden reverberated gently in the underground corridor of the mainframe building I felt rage coursing into my legs like a subterranean supernova of the ankles. Whoever put glitter in plastic floor covering needed lobotomising. Someone holds the door open. Charity in the eye. Outside I look at the sky. No stars. I hold the door open for the person behind me.