The rain on the roof sounds like a heartbeat. You are sitting in the dark. The room is small. The air is stale. You smell wet wool and old paper. You are waiting. You know what you are waiting for. You have always known.

Your name is Elias. You are a detective. Or you were. Now you are just a man in a chair. The chair is hard. The floor is cold. You press your back against the wood. It hurts. Good. Pain is real. Doubt is not real.

You think about the mountain. The Wistful Mountain. It is not a real place. It is a border. A line you cannot cross. It stands in your mind. It is made of glass. It is made of memory. It is you.

The door opens. Light spills in. It is white. It is harsh. You do not look up. You know who it is.

"Hello, Elias."

The voice is soft. It is kind. It is a lie.

"Come in," you say. Your voice is rough. You clear your throat. The sound is dry.

She walks in. Her name is Sarah. She wears a blue coat. The coat is wet. Drops fall from the hem. They hit the floor. Tap. Tap. Tap. Like a clock.

She sits opposite you. There is only one chair. She sits on the floor. She looks up at you. Her eyes are dark. Her eyes are empty.

"I found the file," she says.

"Which file?" you ask.

"The last one. The one you burned."

You laugh. It is a short sound. It dies in the room.

"I didn't burn it," you say. "I read it."

"You lied," she says.

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because I was afraid."

"Of what?"

"Of the truth."

She leans forward. Her face is close. You can see the freckles on her nose. You can see the pores in her skin. You can see the lie in her eyes.

"Tell me," she says. "Tell me the truth."

You shake your head. You look at the window. The rain is heavier now. It smears the glass. The world outside is blurred.

"I can't," you say.

"You must."

"I can't."

She stands up. She is tall. She is strong. She reaches for your hand. You pull away.

"Don't," you say.

"Elias."

"Stop."

She stops. She stands there. She waits. The silence is loud. The rain is loud. Your heart is loud.

"You are the mountain," she says.

"What?"

"You are the border. You are the line."

"I am a man," you say. "I am a detective. I solve cases. I find answers."

"You are a question," she says. "You are the question that has no answer."

You look at her. You look deep into her face. You see yourself. You see your own eyes. You see your own fear. You see your own guilt.

She is your mirror. She is your shadow. She is the part of you you cut off. She is the part of you you hid.

"I know," you say.

"Do you?"

"Yes."

"Then why are you here?"

"I am here to end it."

"How?"

"By letting you go."

She smiles. It is a sad smile. It is a cruel smile.

"I am not going anywhere," she says. "I am you. I will never leave."

You stand up. Your legs shake. Your knees are weak. You lean against the table. The table is wobbly. It creaks.

"I have to leave," you say.

"You can't."

"I must."

"Why?"

"Because I am tired."

"Of what?"

"Of looking."

She steps closer. She is very close now. You can smell her perfume. It is lavender. It is sweet. It is sickly.

"Look at me," she says.

You look at her. You see the truth. The truth is simple. The truth is painful. The truth is you.

You are the killer. You are the victim. You are the detective. You are the suspect. You are all of it. You have always been all of it.

The mountain shatters. The glass breaks. The pieces fly. They cut you. You do not feel it. You feel nothing.

You reach out. You touch her face. Your hand is steady. Your hand is cold.

"I forgive you," you say.

"I forgive you," she says.

You close your eyes. The room spins. The light fades. The rain stops. The silence returns.

You are alone. You are still alone. You were always alone.

The door opens. It is not Sarah. It is no one. It is the wind. The wind blows in. It carries the smell of rain. It carries the smell of earth. It carries the smell of life.

You walk to the door. You step out. The air is cold. The air is clean. You breathe it in. You breathe it out.

You walk down the street. The street is empty. The houses are dark. The lights are off. The world is sleeping.

You walk to the bridge. The bridge is old. The bridge is strong. It spans the river. The river is wide. The river is deep. The water is black. The water is moving.

You stand on the bridge. You look down. The water is far below. It is a long way down. It is a short way up.

You think about the mountain. The mountain is gone. The border is gone. The line is gone.

You think about Sarah. Sarah is gone. The mirror is gone. The shadow is gone.

You think about yourself. You are here. You are now. You are real.

You take a step. You take another step. You move to the edge. The edge is narrow. The edge is sharp. The edge is real.

You look back. The town is behind you. The town is small. The town is quiet. The town is safe.

You look forward. The river is in front of you. The river is vast. The river is wild. The river is free.

You do not jump. You do not fall. You do not drown.

You turn around. You walk back. You walk back to the town. You walk back to the house. You walk back to the room.

You sit in the chair. The chair is hard. The floor is cold. You press your back against the wood. It hurts. Good. Pain is real.

You wait. You know what you are waiting for. You know what it is. It is nothing. It is everything.

The rain starts again. It is light. It is soft. It is gentle.

You close your eyes. You listen. You breathe. You live.

The mountain is gone. You are free.

You are not free.

The loop closes. The cycle turns. The wheel rolls.

You are the detective. You are the suspect. You are the mountain.

You are the wistful thing. You are the border. You are the line.

You are here.

You are alone.

The rain on the roof sounds like a heartbeat. You are sitting in the dark. The room is small. The air is stale. You smell wet wool and old paper. You are waiting. You know what you are waiting for. You have always known.

The door opens. Light spills in. It is white. It is harsh. You do not look up. You know who it is.

"Hello, Elias."

The voice is soft. It is kind. It is a lie.

"Come in," you say. Your voice is rough. You clear your throat. The sound is dry.

She walks in. Her name is Sarah. She wears a blue coat. The coat is wet. Drops fall from the hem. They hit the floor. Tap. Tap. Tap. Like a clock.

She sits opposite you. There is only one chair. She sits on the floor. She looks up at you. Her eyes are dark. Her eyes are empty.

"I found the file," she says.

"Which file?" you ask.

"The last one. The one you burned."

You laugh. It is a short sound. It dies in the room.

"I didn't burn it," you say. "I read it."

"You lied," she says.

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because I was afraid."

"Of what?"

"Of the truth."

She leans forward. Her face is close. You can see the freckles on her nose. You can see the pores in her skin. You can see the lie in her eyes.

"Tell me," she says. "Tell me the truth."

You shake your head. You look at the window. The rain is heavier now. It smears the glass. The world outside is blurred.

"I can't," you say.

"You must."

"I can't."

She stands up. She is tall. She is strong. She reaches for your hand. You pull away.

"Don't," you say.

"Elias."

"Stop."

She stops. She stands there. She waits. The silence is loud. The rain is loud. Your heart is loud.

"You are the mountain," she says.

"What?"

"You are the border. You are the line."

"I am a man," you say. "I am a detective. I solve cases. I find answers."

"You are a question," she says. "You are the question that has no answer."

You look at her. You look deep into her face. You see yourself. You see your own eyes. You see your own fear. You see your own guilt.

She is your mirror. She is your shadow. She is the part of you you cut off. She is the part of you you hid.

"I know," you say.

"Do you?"

"Yes."

"Then why are you here?"

"I am here to end it."

"How?"

"By letting you go."

She smiles. It is a sad smile. It is a cruel smile.

"I am not going anywhere," she says. "I am you. I will never leave."

You stand up. Your legs shake. Your knees are weak. You lean against the table. The table is wobbly. It creaks.

"I have to leave," you say.

"You can't."

"I must."

"Why?"

"Because I am tired."

"Of what?"

"Of looking."

She steps closer. She is very close now. You can smell her perfume. It is lavender. It is sweet. It is sickly.

"Look at me," she says.

You look at her. You see the truth. The truth is simple. The truth is painful. The truth is you.

You are the killer. You are the victim. You are the detective. You are the suspect. You are all of it. You have always been all of it.

The mountain shatters. The glass breaks. The pieces fly. They cut you. You do not feel it. You feel nothing.

You reach out. You touch her face. Your hand is steady. Your hand is cold.

"I forgive you," you say.

"I forgive you," she says.

You close your eyes. The room spins. The light fades. The rain stops. The silence returns.

You are alone. You are still alone. You were always alone.

The door opens. It is not Sarah. It is no one. It is the wind. The wind blows in. It carries the smell of rain. It carries the smell of earth. It carries the smell of life.

You walk to the door. You step out. The air is cold. The air is clean. You breathe it in. You breathe it out.

You walk down the street. The street is empty. The houses are dark. The lights are off. The world is sleeping.

You walk to the bridge. The bridge is old. The bridge is strong. It spans the river. The river is wide. The river is deep. The water is black. The water is moving.

You stand on the bridge. You look down. The water is far below. It is a long way down. It is a short way up.

You think about the mountain. The mountain is gone. The border is gone. The line is gone.

You think about Sarah. Sarah is gone. The mirror is gone. The shadow is gone.

You think about yourself. You are here. You are now. You are real.

You take a step. You take another step. You move to the edge. The edge is narrow. The edge is sharp. The edge is real.

You look back. The town is behind you. The town is small. The town is quiet. The town is safe.

You look forward. The river is in front of you. The river is vast. The river is wild. The river is free.

You do not jump. You do not fall. You do not drown.

You turn around. You walk back. You walk back to the town. You walk back to the house. You walk back to the room.

You sit in the chair. The chair is hard. The floor is cold. You press your back against the wood. It hurts. Good. Pain is real.

You wait. You know what you are waiting for. You know what it is. It is nothing. It is everything.

The rain starts again. It is light. It is soft. It is gentle.

You close your eyes. You listen. You breathe. You live.

The mountain is gone. You are free.

You are not free.