The Sharp Blue Spark

Dear Delyara, Every single time I touch the brass handle of the heavy exit door after walking across the nylon carpet in the corridor, a violent blue spark jumps to my knuckle. It’s a tiny, entirely predictable violence. You brace your shoulder, tense your hand, and wait for the brief sting. It makes me wonder about the small, irritating friction points we willingly build into our daily routines simply because altering the setup takes more effort than enduring the daily pain.