You stand in the hall. The air is thick. It smells of damp wool and old paper. You are here. You have always been here. The floor is cold. You feel it through your shoes. You look down. Your feet are bare. They have been bare for a long time. You do not remember when they lost their socks. You do not remember when they lost their shoes. The stone bites. It is a sharp bite. It is a familiar bite. You do not flinch. You have learned not to flinch.

The room is vast. The ceiling is high. The chandelier hangs low. It is dusty. The light is gray. The light is always gray. You sit at the table. The table is wood. The wood is dark. It has a grain. The grain looks like a river. The river is dry. The river is still. You place your hand on the wood. The wood is cold. Your hand is warm. The warmth does not stay. It fades. It vanishes. It is like breath. It is like smoke.

He is there. He sits across from you. He is small. He is quiet. He does not move. He looks at you. His eyes are gray. They are like the light. They are like the stone. He does not speak. He has not spoken in a long time. You know this. You have known it for a long time. You do not ask him to speak. You do not need him to speak. You need him to be still. You need him to be there.

The door opens. The air changes. The smell changes. It smells of rain. It smells of dirt. It smells of life. A woman enters. She is tall. She is thin. Her hair is dark. Her face is pale. She is beautiful. She is terrifying. She looks at you. She does not smile. She walks to the table. She sits. She places her hands on the wood. Her hands are cold. Her hands are like yours.

"Did you go?" she asks.

Her voice is soft. It is like a whisper. It is like a wind. You do not answer. You look at her. You look at her eyes. Her eyes are black. They are deep. They are full. They are empty.

"I went," you say.

Your voice is low. It is rough. It is like sand. It is like gravel. You do not feel the words. You do not feel the meaning. The words come out of you. They are like stones. They fall into the air. They do not land. They float.

"Where?" she asks.

"Here," you say.

She laughs. It is a short laugh. It is a dry laugh. It is like a crack. It is like a break. She stops. She looks at you. Her face is still. Her face is stone.

"No," she says.

"You are wrong," you say.

"I am right," she says.

"You are dead," you say.

She does not answer. She looks at him. He is still. He is quiet. He is small. He is there.

"He is here," you say.

"He is gone," she says.

"He is here," you repeat.

"You are lost," she says.

"I am found," you say.

She looks at you. Her eyes are hard. Her eyes are sharp. They cut you. They cut you deep. You do not feel the cut. You do not feel the pain. The pain is far. The pain is away. The pain is in the stone. The pain is in the wood. The pain is in the air.

"I have waited," she says.

"I have waited," you say.

"You have not waited," she says.

"I have waited," you say.

"You have run," she says.

"I have stayed," you say.

"You have fled," she says.

"I have remained," you say.

The room is silent. The silence is heavy. The silence is thick. The silence is wet. It drips. It drips from the ceiling. It drips onto the floor. It drips onto the table. It drips onto your hand. You do not wipe it. You let it drip. You let it fall. You let it go.

He moves. He moves his hand. He moves his finger. He points at you. He points at her. He points at the door. He does not speak. He does not need to speak. His finger is a line. The line is straight. The line is true. It connects you. It connects her. It connects the door. It connects the outside. It connects the inside. It connects the life. It connects the death.

You look at the finger. You look at the line. You follow the line. You follow it to the door. The door is open. The door is wide. The door is dark. The door is light. The door is both. The door is neither.

You stand up. Your legs are weak. Your legs are old. Your legs are tired. You stand. You do not fall. You do not sway. You stand firm. You stand still. You are still. You are here. You are there. You are gone.

She stands up. Her chair scrapes. The sound is sharp. The sound is loud. The sound is clear. It cuts the air. It cuts the silence. It cuts the tension. It cuts the hope. It cuts the fear.

She looks at you. Her face is soft. Her face is kind. Her face is sad. Her face is full. Her face is empty.

"Go," she says.

"I will go," you say.

"Do not go," she says.

"I must go," you say.

"Stay," she says.

"I cannot stay," you say.

The word is a stone. The word is a weight. The word is a chain. It binds you. It binds her. It binds him. It binds the room. It binds the air. It binds the light. It binds the dark.

You look at her. You see her. You see her face. You see her eyes. You see her mouth. You see her hands. You see her body. You see her soul. You see her pain. You see her love. You see her hate. You see her fear. You see her hope. You see her despair. You see her truth.

The truth is simple. The truth is clear. The truth is bright. The truth is dark. The truth is here. The truth is now. The truth is you.

You turn. You walk to the door. Your steps are light. Your steps are soft. Your steps are slow. Your steps are steady. You do not look back. You do not need to look back. You know she is there. You know he is there. You know they are watching. You know they are waiting. You know they are loving. You know they are losing.

The door is there. The door is real. The door is solid. The door is cold. You touch the handle. The handle is metal. The handle is smooth. The handle is cold. You turn the handle. The handle turns. The lock clicks. The sound is small. The sound is big. The sound is final. The sound is complete.

The door opens. The light floods in. The light is white. The light is pure. The light is clean. The light is blind. It hurts your eyes. It burns your skin. It warms your heart. It fills your lungs. It fills your mind. It fills your soul.

You step out. The air hits you. The air is cold. The air is wet. The air is fresh. The air is new. It is not the air of the room. It is not the air of the hall. It is not the air of the past. It is the air of the future. It is the air of the end. It is the air of the beginning.

You walk. You walk fast. You walk slow. You walk hard. You walk soft. You walk alone. You walk with them. You walk with her. You walk with him. You walk with the stone. You walk with the wood. You walk with the light. You walk with the dark. You walk with the truth. You walk with the lie. You walk with the life. You walk with the death.

The path is long. The path is straight. The path is narrow. The path is wide. The path is clear. The path is hidden. The path is known. The path is unknown. You do not look back. You do not look ahead. You look down. You look at your feet. Your feet are bare. Your feet are cold. Your feet are strong. Your feet are weak. Your feet are here. Your feet are there. Your feet are gone.

The wind blows. The wind is cold. The wind is sharp. The wind is soft. The wind is loud. The wind is quiet. The wind sings. The wind cries. The wind laughs. The wind weeps. The wind speaks. The wind is silent. The wind is everything. The wind is nothing.

You feel it. You feel the wind. You feel the cold. You feel the pain. You feel the love. You feel the loss. You feel the gain. You feel the past. You feel the future. You feel the now. You feel the all. You feel the none.

You stop. You stand. You are still. You are here. You are there. You are gone.

The door closes. The sound is soft. The sound is final. The sound is complete. The sound is silence. The silence is heavy. The silence is thick. The silence is wet. The silence is dry. The silence is cold. The silence is warm. The silence is light. The silence is dark. The silence is here. The silence is there. The silence is gone.

You are alone. You are together. You are separate. You are joined. You are free. You are bound. You are lost. You are found. You are here. You are there. You are gone.

The journey is over. The journey is beginning. The journey is endless. The journey is complete. The journey is real. The journey is dream. The journey is truth. The journey is lie. The journey is life. The journey is death.

You breathe. The breath is in. The breath is out. The breath is deep. The breath is shallow. The breath is long. The breath is short. The breath is sweet. The breath is sour. The breath is clean. The breath is dirty. The breath is yours. The breath is mine. The breath is ours. The breath is theirs. The breath is the world. The breath is the void.

You close your eyes. The dark is there. The dark is deep. The dark is full. The dark is empty. The dark is warm. The dark is cold. The dark is soft. The dark is hard. The dark is safe. The dark is dangerous. The dark is home. The dark is away.

You open your eyes. The light is there. The light is bright. The light is sharp. The light is soft. The light is hard. The light is clear. The light is blurry. The light is true. The light is false. The light is here. The light is there. The light is now. The light is never.

You stand. You are still. You are here. You are gone.