On this no particular day

On this no particular day, I say goodbye to my friends post-brunch and wander around the museum, staring at the artefacts who stare at me back. The place is as dark as I remember it, with foreboding corners and shadows. If not for the sound of flip-flops echoing through a particular gallery, I wouldn’t have dared to enter it, to stare at a pair of gold earrings shaped like stupas while my  heart is aware of the reflections and shapes around me that shift. But for the flip-flops. They are a sign that another human is around. Unless it isn’t! Unless it is a strange sound that is hearts only at a certain time, by a certain person, to signify a certain thing. But then the wearer of the flip-flops appears in humanly T-shirt and shorts form. 

The alarm goes off, twice. Should I dart out of the building? What about the stuff in my locker? I wonder if the museum will refund the twenty cents I used to lock my bag up. The guard stops people from going into the next gallery. Ten minutes later, the fire alarm announcement is played. Repeatedly. 10 times.

The fire alarm has been activated in this building. Please stay calm and stand by your speakers for further announcements.

times ten. 

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