The closet. Always the same. Dark. Dusty. Saturated with a silence that clung to the throat.
But this time, something had changed. A light passed under the door — thin, pale, almost timid, but bright enough to cut through the shadows. It drew a line on the floor, sharp, unreal, like a wound in the darkness.
And in that light… something maybe moved. Or it was me trembling.
I could see only it. That pale line, almost unreal, like a fresh scar on the skin of the world. My gaze stayed locked on it, unable to move, fascinated by its sharpness.
There was something too precise there, too pure, that had no place in this broken world. And yet, it shone. As if it were calling me. As if it knew.
I saw legs. Outstretched. Twisted as after a fall. A body, no doubt. A fallen body.
