my feet took turns swimming around the vaccuum beyond the edge of the bed my left big toe felt a chilly gust of wind or breath or memory, and so i stepped out through the sheets down to and through the cushy carpeting. The wooden planks beneath were creaking voices or just standard noises. synthetic fibers wound around each toe like a lover's embrace, trying to cling as i pulled myself beyond her sight beyond her reach and through where i knew the archway sentry left my lonely room behind, cold tile waited wet and clammy shivers rocked my naked body. standing there, i knew that breath of wind or death was in my bed, waiting to attach itself or maybe to expel itself from all the mystery afforded by these power outages and all the silly thoughts that grew from trusting our appendages.