Picking Up A Page

The door being locked for so long there isn't a crack in the wall, the windows are sealed they can't get in unaware of the cage they've built around themselves and around their kin, the air is stale the dust is in layers undisturbed. Slowly the time goes by, slowly the oxygen runs out, to scream would be childish, to cry a wast of breath a noise in the fog quickly forgotten no quickened heartbeat wasted on the dark their cage contains no outside emotions. To the insiders ear an endless track plays if it were to end t'would be an unbearable silence placantly choking the contents. As it is now there is no emotion not blocked by their walls and indefinitely sealed doors.

If a draft were to slither across the floor of this cage would it be like a whisper of hope a temptation from below or a fearful omen? What would it be if the seals were broken and their cage was tarnished by the outside? Would it wash away all that has been let to lie or flood it with muddy waters?...