I’m sweeping the floor of broken glass, just a janitor minding his own business. Everybody is disguised as family, a bestie, or a wife. Amongst them is someone sinister concealed in the shadows wielding a stiletto. Loyalty is sworn in public chats, but secrets are traded in the private ones. Eyes on you from a dozen angles like a security guard in a room of flickering monitors. We all speak in riddles because all the walls grew ears. When silence beckons, the room moves elsewhere and the one uninvited is actually the one still speaking. Some are doomed to push a boulder for all eternity up a hill only for it to roll back down again like Sisyphus. I’m lighter than I’ve ever been, set free from the shackles of social expectations.