The afternoon light, fractured by the hallway's flickering fixture, catches the dust motes settling near the utility closet. We crouch low, looking at the stack of unlabeled junction boxes. They are mismatched, yet arranged in a sequence that feels deliberate, almost mathematical. Every visible wire emerging from the boxes is a uniform, bright yellow, regardless of which circuit it appears to power. A peeling strip of yellow caution tape anchors the nearest box, and from the ceiling pipe above, condensation drips with a slow, steady rhythm. The air smells faintly of ozone and dry cardboard. On the corner of the top box, a faint, greasy fingerprint smudge disrupts the otherwise clean metal surface.
static · bright