The clock on the wall ticks. It is loud. You sit at the desk. The wood is cold. You are the manager. You have been the manager for twenty years. The office is white. The light is flat.

You look at the file. It is thick. It is heavy. You open it. The paper is yellowed. You smell it. It smells like rain. It smells like old stone. You know this smell. You have always known this smell.

Your sister, Elise, is gone. She is dead. It has been three days. The house is quiet. The air is still. You came here to work. You needed the routine. You needed the noise of the fans. You needed the white walls.

You turn the page. There is a sketch. It is a drawing of a window. The window is open. The wind is blowing. You see the lines. They are shaky. Elise drew this. She drew it when she was young. She drew it when she was sick.

You touch the paper. Your finger is dry. The ink is black. It is deep. You look at the clock. It is one o’clock. No one is here. The building is empty.

You feel a shift. The air grows thick. The light dims. The white walls seem to breathe. You look at the corners. The shadows are long. They move. They do not move like shadows. They move like smoke. They move like water.

You stand up. Your chair scrapes. The sound is sharp. You look at the door. It is locked. You try the handle. It does not turn. You look at the window. It is high. It is sealed. You are trapped.

The clock stops. The tick is gone. The silence is heavy. It presses on your ears. It presses on your chest. You feel the weight of the room. You feel the weight of the years.

You look at the sketch again. The window is open. The wind is blowing. You look at the air. There is a ripple. It is faint. It is blue. It comes from the floor. It rises. It touches your feet. It touches your legs. It is cold. It is wet.

You know this cold. You remember the lake. You remember the bank. You remember the mud. You were seven. Elise was nine. You went to play. The sun was high. The water was clear. You saw a fish. It was silver. It moved fast. You chased it. You slipped.

The water took you. It was dark. It was heavy. You kicked. You breathed. You did not breathe. You felt the pull. You felt the grip. You were going down. Then, a hand. It was small. It was strong. It pulled you up. Elise. She pulled you out. She dragged you onto the bank. She held you. She did not let go. She held you until you could breathe.

You look at the blue ripple. It is higher now. It is at your knees. It is cold. It is real. You look at the desk. The file is wet. The ink runs. The sketch blurs. The window in the drawing is wide open.

You look at the corner of the room. A figure is there. It is tall. It is thin. It is wearing a dress. It is blue. It is Elise. She is looking at you. Her face is pale. Her eyes are dark. She does not speak. She does not move. She just looks.

You feel the fear. It is old. It is deep. You want to run. You cannot run. The door is locked. The window is sealed. The cold is rising. It is at your waist. You shiver. You are wet. You are soaking. You are in the water. You are in the lake.

You look at Elise. She is standing in the water. The water is at her neck. She is calm. She is still. She looks at you with love. It is a heavy love. It is a binding love. She is not angry. She is not sad. She is waiting.

You remember the moment. You remember the pull. You remember the grip. You remember the fear. You remember the relief. You remember the life. You lived. She did not. She gave you the breath. She gave you the years. She gave you the job. She gave you the desk. She gave you the silence.

The water is at your chest. You cannot move. You cannot breathe. The air is thick. The light is gone. It is dark. It is blue. You are in the deep. You are in the dark. You are alone.

You look at Elise. She is closer. She is at the desk. She is behind you. You feel her. You feel the cold. You feel the presence. You feel the weight.

You understand. You have always understood. You cannot escape. The debt is paid. The debt is due. You came back. You always come back. The cycle is closed. The loop is tight. You are part of it. You are the part.

The water is at your mouth. You open it. The water enters. It is cold. It is sweet. It is home. You feel the pull. It is not pain. It is release. It is peace. You let go. You let go of the desk. You let go of the job. You let go of the years.

You drift. The darkness is soft. The blue is bright. You see the surface. It is far. It is small. You do not care. You are with her. You are with the cold. You are with the end.

The clock starts again. It is two o’clock. The light returns. The walls are white. The air is dry. You are sitting at the desk. Your hands are dry. The file is open. The sketch is there. The window is open.

You look at the clock. You look at the door. It is unlocked. You stand up. Your legs are steady. You walk to the door. You open it. You walk out.

The hallway is empty. The carpet is gray. You walk to the elevator. You press the button. The doors open. You step in. The doors close.

You go down. The floors pass. You go down. You go down. You reach the ground floor. The doors open. You walk out.

The sun is bright. The street is busy. People walk. Cars drive. The noise is loud. The air is warm. You breathe. You are alive.

You look at your hands. They are clean. They are dry. You look at the sky. It is blue. It is clear. You feel the wind. It is gentle. It touches your face.

You know what you must do. You do not fear it. You do not resist it. You accept it. You are ready. The mountain is there. It is high. It is gray. It is waiting.

You walk. You walk away from the building. You walk toward the park. The park is old. The trees are tall. The grass is green. You see the path. It leads to the hill.

You climb. The air gets thin. The view gets wide. You see the city. It is small. It is far. You see the lake. It is far. It is blue.

You reach the top. The wind is strong. It blows your hair. It blows your coat. You stand there. You look at the view. You look at the sky.

You feel the pull. It is faint. It is there. It is in your blood. It is in your bones. You feel the cold. It is rising. It is coming.

You close your eyes. You breathe in. You breathe out. You let go. You let go of the fear. You let go of the love. You let go of the self.

The wind howls. The sun sets. The sky turns purple. The stars come out. One by one. They are bright. They are cold.

You stand. You wait. The cold touches you. It is at your feet. It is at your legs. It is at your waist. It is at your chest.

You do not move. You do not cry. You do not scream. You smile. It is a small smile. It is a true smile.

You are home. You are with her. The loop is closed. The story is done. The page is turned. The ink is dry.

You fall. The grass is soft. The sky is vast. The silence is total. The end is here. The end is now. You are gone. You are here. You are one.

The mountain stands. It is silent. It is still. It watches. It waits. It remembers. It keeps the secret. It keeps the soul. It keeps the debt.

The wind stops. The stars shine. The night is deep. The night is long. The night is yours. The night is hers. The night is everyone’s.

You are dust. You are air. You are light. You are dark. You are the tick of the clock. You are the turn of the page. You are the breath. You are the end.

And then, nothing. And then, everything. And then, nothing.

The cycle turns. The wheel spins. The stone falls. The water rises. The door locks. The light dims.

You are back. You are here. You are the manager. You are the one. You are the debt. You are the love.

The clock ticks. The light is flat. The wall is white.

You sit down. You open the file. You smell the rain. You know the smell. You always know the smell.

You look at the window. It is closed. It is sealed. It is tight.

You wait. You wait for the blue. You wait for the cold. You wait for her.

She is coming. She is always coming. She is never late. She is never early. She is just here.

You breathe. You hold your breath. You let it go.

The tick. The stop. The silence.

The end. The beginning. The same. The same. The same.