Poetry Day 6: Sensory Details

Phone
The peeling label scratches against my palm as call after call comes in.
With each ring, the vibrations run through my arm never allowing for stillness.
I crave the coldness this small device has when I first begin my shift.
Instead, I’m constantly greeted by the warmth caused by overuse.
I walk away from my station with my palm tingling reminding me I can never leave work behind.

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