dust bunnies and scunge

last night i cracked

and down fell my heart, down, down, through and right past my stomach, until— thud— it landed on the floor, between the toes of my dusty boots, slimy trickles of selfishness and impatience clinging to its surface. on the floor it rolled the slightest bit, picking up dust bunnies and scunge.

bewildered, i look down at the pathetic little lump. evidently i'm not using it, so what's it for? what's in its design?

there isn't the time to figure it out, so i pick it up, put it in my pocket, and, head down, trudge onward.