Tiptoe

I tiptoe in the morning. Barefoot on tothe wood floors. Quietly moving between rooms in my apartment to avoid waking up my roommates.

And then I turn on the blender and render tiptoeing pointless.

The blender is loud. It sounds like chaos. Sharp blades cutting, grinding, blending frozen solid pieces of earth, water, life.

The blades spin and I spin. Tiptoes on linoleum. 1 minute, 2 minutes. Time spins with me.

Eventually, the spinning stops and what was once chaos has become nourishment.

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