ill going about their daily tasks in desperate
faith that the script cycling around their head
is more false than the one they repeat out loud.

I don’t ask why they don’t lean on me the way
I lean on them. I know they let me hunt
down their lost shovels in the woods.

I know picking the worst of two bad options
is how you learn a third. I know I’m just some
character with my own agenda until I’m not.

I follow the rules of the game, knowing
the consequences of running into the
monsters in the cave aren’t half as bad

as that of obeying the fear I feel from the
pain of the last bite. I’ve died alone before.
Everybody loves a microcosm

for the illusion of community.
The non-player characters
know even that’s a lie.