The Crash

The stack towers over your desk like the Tower of Pisa, threatening to come crashing down any second. But the Tower of Pisa is stable, unmoving for once in its history. It’s a lesson on the good that removing weight can do, but instead of taking books off the top, maybe making two stacks instead of one, you keep adding more.

And more.

And more.

For some reason, you can’t stop. You buy more books. They have to go somewhere. They go to the top of the stack. You don’t break free from the system. It’s worked until now, even if there’s a thought in the back of your head that it’s only a matter of time until it crashes down.

And crash down it does.

It happens in the middle of the night, startling you awake. Not only the books are scattered but everything that sat on your desk is as well.

You’ve startled into a sitting position, but you flop back down with a groan once you’ve seen it. There’s so much to clean up. The noise surely woke someone else up. But it’s the middle of the night, and you’re tired. You don’t want to move. You don’t want to deal with it.

Now that you’re back on your back, eyes fluttering closed, it’s even harder to move. You lay there, and try to convince yourself that taking care of it now is the better option. You’ll thank yourself in the morning.

You’re asleep again before you’re successful.

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