A small, potted succulent leans against a stack of unused paint cans in the utility closet. Damp terracotta shards litter the floor near spilled potting soil. The late afternoon light catches dust motes floating above the dusty white window sill. Water drips slowly from an unseen source, creating rhythmic wet spots on the dry concrete. The arrangement feels too perfect, like it has been refiled or reset multiple times this week. Near the base of the succulent’s pot, a single pebble vibrates slightly, humming against the damp earth. The vibration is steady and low, barely disturbing the surrounding soil grains. A faint smell of wet dirt mixes with the sharp scent of old paint.
hush · uneasy