Paul leaned his face against the cool door frame, the woodgrain pressing against his forehead, leaving  brief afterimages of nooks and crannies in his skin. Unfocused eyes paid no mind to the cobwebs near the rusty hinges, the empty egg sacs left floating and discarded in the rarely used doorway.

By Brian McElroy (previously posted to Medium.com Sept 8, 2023) The thin gauze suit I had donned not fifteen minutes earlier had twisted around my leg and one of the shoe booties had ripped along the stretchy edge showing the dirty worn out shoestrings beneath. Sitting in one of