As I walked into my apartment the sense of dread creeps up my throat and grips my gut. It is not a hyperbole or a metaphor, I thought, when people described fear as gut-gripping. It lingers, as I reassure myself there is nothing to keep my heart racing. I keep company on a small screen as I pace around the apartment, ducking and keeping a sharp eye on everything. Not a second do I let myself trust my judgment. I look and look, but fear lingers.
It lingers and grips on tight.
It wouldn't let loose.
It grips.
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ReplyDeleteThis certainly has energy... the energy of noticing fear can be powerful and this language is expressive, laced with implied metaphor...
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