she glanced at the ceiling
and it smiled back at her

how polite, she thought
but really it wasn’t like that,
it was merely smiling because it was comfortable,
and it was comfortable to be above her and keep her underneath,
and it was comfortable to gaze at her life
and to see the people who came and went
and the people who came and went and then didn’t come back

it was comfortable because it was light entertainment:
the constant motion of her daily tasks and always, always
the notion that it would always be like this
just her and the ceiling
just the ceiling and her
smiling back at her as she lay on the carpet and made angels with her arms and legs, who floated up

beyond the ceiling

and carried on

to somewhere else