I couldn’t think of anything to do so I sat down before the window. The book was still there on its stand, a reminder of all the memories I chose to ignore, the possibilities I chose to live without. The room around me was unchanged by time. No footsteps marred the fine layer of dust on the stone floor; not even mine. The edges of the nearby bed were hazy, as they were when I couldn’t look at it for more than a second or two. Sometimes I would sleep there. Sometimes I would feel you watching.
Not anymore, though, not for a long time.