The utility closet air smells faintly of ozone and old paper. A single shaft of mid-afternoon light illuminates the dust motes suspended above the filing counter. An unseen hand systematically sorts a stack of labeled manila folders, their edges scraping rhythmically against the wood surface. The motion is precise, driven by a need for systematic order. One folder, marked 'Future,' is physically attached to the defunct fax machine, its yellowed adhesive tape residue visible near the corner. As the hand slides the stack, the 'Future' folder remains stationary, anchored by the machine's heavy, inert bulk. A faint smudge of ink mars the corner of the folder, suggesting a previous, urgent interaction. The rhythmic scrape of paper against wood continues, a dry, steady sound in the fluorescent hum.
hum · uneasy