[ WP ] With no moving air , the blinds started to move .

Drifting. 
 
 They have been drifting for a while now and it is mesmerizing. 
 
 Hypnotizing. 
 
 The blinds on the window that is. They are drifting. Dancing. 
 
 I believe now they are performing a particularly elegant movement from Swan Lake. Such grace and style! The beautiful pliés, the delicate pirouettes, the perfect arabesques! 
 
 Ah, but now they have stopped. A shame. I applauded for them, but they refused to take a bow. 
 
 Instead, one of them lifted a single finger. Not drifting. Accusing. 
 
 Accusing *me. * Forgive me father, for I have sinned. I have spent too much time studying ballet with my window coverings and not quite enough time on studying small poison tablets that hide in orange bottles. 
 
 Still it points. Accusing. A single finger. 
 
 The blinds stare at me. Urging me. Blaming me. Pulling me. 
 
 They are drifting again. 
 
 An orange bottle, caught in the wind of their drift, falls from the table. O. Lan. Za. Pine. Four strange syllables that blow away in the dance and sink to the bottom of Swan Lake. 
 
 I take their hand, try to dance, but I am not fast enough. Instead, I only spin before they throw me to the floor and I am left dizzy, so dizzy. 
 
 Small white poison tablets all over the floor spilling. Overflowing. Replicating. 
 
 And now a voice is whispering in me, urging me. Pulling me. Blaming me. 
 
 `` Come dance.'' The blinds want me. They need me. They know me. 
 
 Swan Lake seems so beautiful. I close my eyes and dive into its cool clear waters, and I am clean, so clean, cleaner than I've ever been, and there is music all around, all around. 
 
 The dance goes on, and I join, trampling the poison underfoot like so many eggshells. I do not need to poison the Lake, because then would n't that kill all of the fish? And the swan, of course, so beautiful, she too would perish. 
 
 It is so calm here at the bottom of the Lake. Dark, and cool, and pleasant. 
 
 The music echoes all around, and I gladly let it seep into my lungs. 
 
 I drown, and it is perfect. No one will ever look for my body at the bottom of Swan Lake. 
 
 And so I will be like the blinds forever. 
 
 Drifting. 

