They were folded up together in the corner of the room. Pressed into the walls.
There are days when the mind feels crammed full, crowded, distracting. It isn’t entirely unpleasant. It is insulating. Useful for forgetting all of the usual worries and anxieties of life, lets you be mesmerized by rain catching on fire.
I have noticed that on certain evenings when the sun is slow to sink, on curved roads, the horizon tenderly holds air that shimmers. It could be mistaken for a swarm of buzzing insects that liquidate and jitter as I get closer. I know it’s called a mirage. Deserts have them, I am told.