petulance

There was a storm in the house, but the inhabitants never noticed the walls shaking. All they could do was sit there as torrential rain tore through the plaster, flooding even the upper floors. It was their daily routine to endure the deluge, the tepid waters churning around and within them.
This was never the right time. No concept of time could penetrate the murky depths as slowly, steadily, they plunged into the abyss, never to be seen again.



Sometimes we still hear them from the well.