I work in a library where nobody goes. It is quiet and the sun shines in. When I am here alone I expand outward solipsistically until my head brushes the rafters and my fingers bat against the ceiling fans. The sun touches me (reaching its rays through the skylights) and like a chubby baby I giggle and squirm. I swell warm and roly-poly into the room and flatten the freestanding shelves. The space is all mine; there is no one else but me.
I remain expansive until there comes a noise. Noise pricks my ballooned happiness and shrinks me back into the meanness of myself. I do not like noise; I much prefer silence.
