Today as I worked I felt the wood in my desk twitch.

I thought it might be the vibrations within myself.

But the pulse grew stronger...

Soon it the source became clear.

I decided to ignore it.

But then the grain started to warp.

I could slide my fingers in between...

It became a nervous habit.

Sliding my fingers through the grain as if they were the strands in a loom.

It felt warm and pliable under my skin.

I wanted to stick my head in.

See what was there...

I never did.

And now it's gone.

Just a wooden desk.

And nothing more.

I found myself floating today.

The face past the glass past the face stared.

I stared back

I saw a tendril white and luminecent

I gave it a tug, the the face smiled.

But which face, I couldn't say