Chapter 14 · free to read
It has shown nothing since she carried it down the inner stair. I had been treating that as grief. It was information.
No room, no ceiling, no lamp. No me.
A door that has already eaten cannot be fed. The trouble was finding a second mouthful it had no room for.
The two fingers the door took on the first night. It has been wearing them ever since, and a thing already worn cannot be copied.
Artwork and narration generated with AI.