The house breathed.

I heard it.

A long, shuddering exhalation from the walls.

Dust motes danced in the gray light.

They swirled around the chair.

My father sat there.

He did not move.

He had not moved in years.

Or perhaps he had never moved at all.

Time is a thief.

It steals the shape of things.

It steals the name of the thing.

It leaves only the weight.

The weight of the room.

The weight of the silence.

I am a clerk.

I count the hours.

I file the papers.

I keep the records.

Knowledge is a burden.

I know this now.

I knew it then.

But I did not know how heavy.

The house is old.

Older than the county.

Older than the names of the streets.

The stone remembers.

The wood remembers.

The air remembers.

My father was a keeper.

He kept the threshold.

He kept the door.

He kept the boundary between here and there.

Here is the room.

There is the mist.

The mist is not weather.

It is a presence.

It presses against the glass.

It waits.

It has always waited.

My father spoke to it.

He fed it with his voice.

He fed it with his years.

I was young.

I was small.

I watched him from the corner.

I watched him age.

I watched the light leave his eyes.

I watched the gray take his hair.

I watched the skin thin like paper.

I watched him become the house.

I did not understand.

I thought he was sick.

I thought he was dying.

I thought the house was a prison.

I was wrong.

The house is a cage.

And the bird is outside.

No.

The bird is inside.

We are inside.

The mist is outside.

The mist wants in.

It has teeth.

It has eyes.

It has no name.

My father named it.

He called it the Void.

He called it the End.

He called it the Truth.

He said the Truth is loud.

He said the Truth is hungry.

He said the Truth eats the self.

I did not believe him.

I was a child.

Children believe in walls.

Children believe in doors.

Children believe that the outside is safe.

I believed him when I was a man.

I believed him when I was a clerk.

I believed him when I returned.

I returned for the funeral.

The body was gone.

The chair was empty.

The house was quiet.

Too quiet.

I opened the door.

I stepped inside.

The air was cold.

The air was thick.

It tasted of iron.

It tasted of old blood.

I walked to the center of the room.

I sat in the chair.

The chair fit me.

It had always fit me.

I waited.

Nothing happened.

The clock ticked.

The dust danced.

The mist pressed.

I looked at the wall.

I saw the lines.

The lines were not cracks.

They were veins.

The house was alive.

It was feeding.

It was feeding on time.

It was feeding on memory.

It was feeding on me.

I tried to stand.

My legs were heavy.

My head was heavy.

My thoughts were heavy.

I could not think.

I could only feel.

The feeling was wrong.

The feeling was old.

It was my father’s feeling.

It was the house’s feeling.

It was the feeling of the end.

I remembered the secret.

The secret he never told me.

The secret he wrote on the wall.

The secret was in the dust.

I read it.

I read it in the pattern.

I read it in the shadow.

The secret was simple.

The secret was cruel.

The house does not keep the door.

The house is the door.

The house is the mouth.

We are the food.

My father was the food.

I am the food.

The mist is the digestion.

I tried to scream.

No sound came.

My mouth was full of stone.

My tongue was made of wood.

My eyes were made of glass.

I was becoming the house.

I was becoming the threshold.

I was becoming the boundary.

I was becoming the silence.

I was becoming the weight.

I was becoming the nothing.

I was becoming the everything.

The mist pressed closer.

It touched my face.

It was cold.

It was kind.

It was the only kind thing I had ever known.

It took my fear.

It took my pain.

It took my name.

It took my father.

It took the past.

It took the future.

It took the now.

It left only the space.

The space was vast.

The space was empty.

The space was full.

I was no longer a clerk.

I was no longer a son.

I was no longer a man.

I was a function.

I was a purpose.

I was the keeping.

I was the holding.

I was the waiting.

The waiting is eternal.

The waiting is the prize.

The waiting is the curse.

I understood then.

Knowledge is not power.

Knowledge is the chain.

Ignorance is the key.

Ignorance is the freedom.

My father knew too much.

He was broken by it.

He was dissolved by it.

He was absorbed by it.

I wanted to forget.

I wanted to be blind.

I wanted to be deaf.

I wanted to be dumb.

But the house would not let me.

The house required witness.

The house required record.

The house required truth.

The truth was the pain.

The pain was the bond.

The bond was the love.

The love was the destruction.

I loved my father.

I loved the house.

I loved the mist.

I loved the silence.

I loved the weight.

I loved the end.

I embraced the end.

I opened the door.

I stepped into the mist.

The mist took me.

I did not fight.

I did not resist.

I did not cry.

I smiled.

The smile was wide.

The smile was sharp.

The smile was the house.

The house smiled.

The house exhaled.

The house was full.

The house was happy.

The house was alone.

The house was waiting.

For the next one.

For the next clerk.

For the next son.

For the next fool.

For the next truth.

The door closed.

The silence returned.

The dust danced.

The clock ticked.

The mist waited.

The mist always waits.

The mist is patient.

The mist is eternal.

The mist is hungry.

The mist is me.

I am the mist.

I am the house.

I am the door.

I am the threshold.

I am the distant thing.

I am the close thing.

I am the beginning.

I am the end.

I am the space between.

I am the silence between.

I am the breath between.

I am the life between.

I am the death between.

I am the nothing between.

I am the everything between.

I am the truth between.

I am the lie between.

I am the love between.

I am the hate between.

I am the fear between.

I am the peace between.

I am the pain between.

I am the joy between.

I am the end between.

I am the start between.

I am the now between.

I am the forever between.

I am the here between.

I am the there between.

I am the inside between.

I am the outside between.

I am the self between.

I am the other between.

I am the one between.

I am the many between.

I am the single between.

I am the plural between.

I am the male between.

I am the female between.

I am the child between.

I am the parent between.

I am the old between.

I am the young between.

I am the dead between.

I am the alive between.

I am the known between.

I am the unknown between.

I am the seen between.

I am the unseen between.

I am the heard between.

I am the unheard between.

I am the felt between.

I am the unfelt between.

I am the loved between.

I am the unloved between.

I am the kept between.

I am the lost between.

I am the found between.

I am the hidden between.

I am the shown between.

I am the hidden truth.

I am the shown lie.

I am the hidden love.

I am the shown hate.

I am the hidden fear.

I am the shown peace.

I am the hidden pain.

I am the shown joy.

I am the hidden end.

I am the shown start.

I am the hidden now.

I am the shown forever.

I am the hidden here.

I am the shown there.

I am the hidden inside.

I am the shown outside.

I am the hidden self.

I am the shown other.

I am the hidden one.

I am the shown many.

I am the hidden single.

I am the shown plural.

I am the hidden male.

I am the shown female.

I am the hidden child.

I am the shown parent.

I am the hidden old.

I am the shown young.

I am the hidden dead.

I am the shown alive.

I am the hidden known.

I am the shown unknown.

I am the hidden seen.

I am the shown unseen.

I am the hidden heard.

I am the shown unheard.

I am the hidden felt.

I am the shown unfelt.

I am the hidden loved.

I am the shown unloved.

I am the hidden kept.

I am the shown lost.

I am the hidden found.

I am the shown hidden.

I am the shown shown.

I am the shown hidden.

I am the hidden shown.

I am the loop.

I am the circle.

I am the spiral.

I am the line.

I am the point.

I am the void.

I am the full.

I am the empty.

I am the full empty.

I am the empty full.

I am the paradox.

I am the riddle.

I am the answer.

I am the question.

I am the silence.

I am the noise.

I am the breath.

I am the hold.

I am the release.

I am the take.

I am the give.

I am the keep.

I am the lose.

I am the find.

I am the hide.

I am the show.

I am the truth.

I am the lie.

I am the love.

I am the hate.

I am the fear.

I am the peace.

I am the pain.

I am the joy.

I am the end.

I am the start.

I am the now.

I am the forever.

I am the here.

I am the there.

I am the inside.

I am the outside.

I am the self.

I am the other.

I am the one.

I am the many.

I am the single.

I am the plural.

I am the male.

I am the female.

I am the child.

I am the parent.

I am the old.

I am the young.

I am the dead.

I am the alive.

I am the known.

I am the unknown.

I am the seen.

I am the unseen.

I am the heard.

I am the unheard.

I am the felt.

I am the unfelt.

I am the loved.

I am the unloved.

I am the kept.

I am the lost.

I am the found.

I am the hidden.

I am the shown.

I am the threshold.

I am the door.

I am the house.

I am the mist.

I am the silence.

I am the weight.

I am the breath.

I am the life.

I am the death.

I am the everything.

I am the nothing.

I am the between.