flying through clouds of uncertainty on wings of existential dread
One per customer? Meh.
If the whole teeter-totter thing hadn’t already been the perfect metaphor for living with an abuser, this would be — any direction you go, you’ll probably get hurt, and you can’t see any way out, so you just stay as still and quiet in the center as possible and hope the layout doesn’t change around you (unless you’re me, in which case you stay still and quiet while the rage builds up inside till you can’t take it any more, and fight back, and get cut worse).
Dangit, swords. Stop being depressing.