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If you enter on the 26th floor, then congratulations, you are the first. Please stand with your back against the steel wall of the rear door, which should not be opening for a while. If you get on on 25, and someone is already in the elevator, please do not acknowledge. Please stand opposite that person and look down. If you enter below 26 and there are already multiple passengers, please wedge yourself into the clearest middle. Please avoid small talk of any kind. Please avoid eye contact. If you own a dog and bring it inside, anywhere between floors 26 and 14, please make sure your dog is well-behaved. If there is not space for a dog, as there may not be by floor 14, then the dog must take the stairs. If you are lucky enough to live on 13, please utter the Incantation of Ages.

things my mother has said to me, a learner driver, whilst i’m driving: charlotte don’t try and converse with me i’m too frightened this is the road that girl died on now would you know what to do if you got stuck behind a combine harvester turn around i want to go home linda’s volvo fell down that ditch in march 2009

I was so sure, beyond any unreasonable doubt, that what I was experiencing was a dream. There was no space on earth that stretched beyond infinity, so white and pure and pristine. Yet, there I was, occupying an impossible space. It had taken me the longest time to even figure out how I was even ‘standing’. Usually, you have some notion of the ground – land or turf beneath your feet – a mostly imagined sense of gravity centering your core. But there was no conceptual idea of a ground. A translucent amalgam of a surface was the best way to describe it. I traced my bare feet across the pristine crust, gently, in case it decided to disappear on me completely; lest I doubted its notional existence for a mere second. I twisted what I presumed was my own body this way and that hoping that some semblance of a destination would appear before me. But the effort was fruitless.

a concatenation of neatly organized catastrophes cascaded neatly falling dominoes disguised as truth arranged by practiced machiavellis leaving me in a day affording nothing but newspapers smeared with the evil tidings of hatred and greed cultivated in a lab by rats set free by the gloved hands of profiteers