Rigged, popcorn texture.
Nearly pure white, wear and tear only taking a slight toll.
Trimmed with dark, rich wood.
Illuminated with yellow light.
A shadow of a fan, dancing across the surface.
I can feel my imagination burning a hole right through it.
It's plain.
And distracting.
Mostly deceptive.
I feel like I'm thinking, like I'm doing,
when really, I'm just staring at the ceiling.
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