An echo passes faintly through the room.

2:06pm.

Our footfalls failed to echo, where the mightiest sounds of the house settling were the faintest of all sounds available. Pressed against the wall, attempting to avoid going further, we chose each room as if we would find our deaths in there. Anxiously we pushed doors open, but filled the room with only the nothingness I began to suspect were our fibers. Our combined weight equaled nothing. Our presences were memories here. We could see that now.












































Yours,
JARET.