The house is a car is a ship that I lean my ladder against.
Take one step up and it shakes, the foundation only as strong as the ties that hold it in place.
A lady waits for me. I won’t go to her, making it only as far as this ship will let me.
I can see her. She mourns, and I care, but I really don’t.
Passing her by as if nothing substantial. She covers her face. To cry, but a laugh takes its place. Face contorting with glee when her hands fall dead at her side.
And I laugh.
Then I fall, catching myself just before the edge. I look down into nothing. Only blue water sifting and rolling beneath me, my ship, my house, my car.
It splits, white foam gathering at the edges.
And I wake up.
eta: meta behind the story over here.