empty
i’ve seen this house before, but it never towered over me like it did last night. gutted, empty, but left in a hurry. the windows, 4 feet taller, loomed over me, slanted, bright, blinding sunlight through the clouds. but it was night. she was there again, brought me to it, took me from it. i wandered along the outer edge of the house, tracing the rain puddles with my feet, and felt energized. she led me beyond the puddles, past the trees, to the red room. weeping men in clean white lined the room, rubbing invisible stones. we collected the stones from them and wandered back to the front door. we placed our givings on the disregarded porch and knocked on the door, in memory. the house creaked in a gust of wind, and we ran on to the gates for more.