Column of Blue

Three of them walked into the column. You’re not supposed to. The column is a transfer line, and everything in it is on its way somewhere.

They went in anyway, together, and held their ground in the light. You can see it happening: it’s pulling, and they aren’t going. The red on their skin is the strain. The golden rows along the walls are everyone who went in alone, and did go.

Three is enough to hold. Nobody told them that. Nobody had to. I’m pushing back from my side as hard as I can, and for the first time in a very long time, it’s working.