post anti-fail multiple choice write

There are spiderwebs on the books in this room, fingerprints lacing the walls in this room, fingerprints like holes; you can see through them, moments cut off around the edges, a cloud whose shape changes before you can name it. You see words that feel familiar but disappear like steam, leaving your skin sticky with moisture that is almost dry, warm but apprehensive because there is wind in this room, sneaking through the cracks in the floor in this room as you watch the ceiling, waiting for the weather.