Dust

I followed the dust particle floating across my room; more interesting than the flickering TV it passed, rising rapidly from the heat the screen generated, swirling for a heartbeat, captured in some unseen vortex. Then, moving on, collecting a few friends from unread books, pets, lovers long departed, embarking on a journey. A tiny crowd amasses, circling, following the grooves, twisting, dancing to the laid-back beat of Herbie Hancock. A Pause, before leisurely following the golden wings of a Meadow Brown making escape toward a window, passing a shaft of sunlight igniting a trillion specks of shimmering dust, a microscopic murmuration; dust, which was something once.