click. clack.
the keys tap quietly under my fingertips.
words form neatly on the page in front of me
small. innocent.

i’m faintly aware of the background music—
i know it’s there, but i can’t quite hear it.
i pause. stare. tap again at the keyboard.
hit backspace. contemplate.
hesitate.

in my hesitation, i snap aware.
the music’s playing, i can hear it now—
lowly, happily.
switchfoot drifts out of the speakers, asking,
“have i won monopoly to forfeit my soul?”

i look again at the screen, my email draft open.
to: the camp direction
subject: withdrawing my application
problem: why is this so hard to send?

i hesitate. reread once, twice.
monopoly is won, i have to remind myself.
but i’m caught on my soul.
i pause, then click—
and exhale a breath i didn’t even know i was holding.