● schema role 077

I feel a bit clearer now. Everything's been out of order, Time, I mean. I thought for so long that time was like a line, that... that our moments were laid out like dominoes, and that they fell one into another, and on it went. Just days tipping, one into the next, into the next, in a long line between the beginning... and the end. But I was wrong. It's not like that at all. Our moments fall around us like rain, or... snow, or confetti. You were right. We have been in this room, so many times and we didn't know. All of us. Mom says that a house is like a body, and that every house has eyes, and bones, and skin, and a face. This room is like the heart of the house. No, not a heart, a stomach. It was your dance studio Theo. It was my toy room, it was a reading room for Mom, a game room for Steve, a family room for Shirley, a tree-house. But it was always the Red Room. It put on different faces so that we'd be still and quiet. While it digested. I'm like a small creature swallowed whole by a monster, and the monster feels my tiny little movements inside. I learned a secret. There's no without, I am not gone. I'm scattered into so many pieces, sprinkled on your life like new snow.

I feel a bit clearer now. Everything's been out of order, Time, I mean. I thought for so long that time was like a line, that... that our moments were laid out like dominoes, and that they fell one into another, and on it went. Just days tipping, one into the next, into the next, in a long line between the beginning... and the end. But I was wrong. It's not like that at all. Our moments fall around us like rain, or... snow, or confetti. You were right. We have been in this room, so many times and we didn't know. All of us. Mom says that a house is like a body, and that every house has eyes, and bones, and skin, and a face. This room is like the heart of the house. No, not a heart, a stomach. It was your dance studio Theo. It was my toy room, it was a reading room for Mom, a game room for Steve, a family room for Shirley, a tree-house. But it was always the Red Room. It put on different faces so that we'd be still and quiet. While it digested. I'm like a small creature swallowed whole by a monster, and the monster feels my tiny little movements inside. I learned a secret. There's no without, I am not gone. I'm scattered into so many pieces, sprinkled on your life like new snow.