Me-Not-Late...Just Imploding... Final Friday Fiction

ooopppssss... been a bit of the usual madness at the Mac Camp... so FFF crept up on me unawares!!! Let me see what I can do about that right now...

It's a matter of firefighting, said the bucket to the wall. What fire, asked the wall in return. The one each makes for themselves. 

You dribble nonsense, said the wall to the bucket, for fire is an external and fearsome thing.

Fearsome indeed, said bucket. Wall, know you not the internal combustion of confusions and imports? Of angsts and rages and sadness and despair?

There is nothing within me but the mortar that holds my cells together. What can I know of such things? How can you?

I know for I have space within to hold these things and more. Capacity to carry them and choice, to hold or tip them. Stuff comes, stuff goes. Some stays. The dregs build a patina within my nature. Character. The streaking of existence and its ravages. Sometimes the smears turn red hot and stoke the fire. Then it is necessary to fight, to balance one's character in order not to succumb to the smoke and the terror of it. 

Of what, again?

Of life.

© YAM 2020