Hippopotamus

The loop was becoming impervious.  With every turn, there always rests a mark of dust on the outcome like an offset.

“The Humility Project?” Daniels repeated, I could tell she was acting.

“You’ve heard of it,” I leaned in.

The eclipse swung inward.  An unidentified peer motioned Daniels, who buttoned her coat to exit.  I had the feeling I should change course.  After all, I was not on lock.

Without hesitation, I took the stairs to exit the side.  The alleyways in the Willow District hold the figure of a hippopotamus.  In ancient times, they were waste units, I’ve heard they threw leftovers in their mouths.

Currently, they are plump garden ornaments with a touch of whimsy: in their belly is a place to hide or be lost.