A sinewy veil came to rest more heavily against me the farther away I fell from the library. The fabric, being stitched by some unseen hand, slowly became more real. It had the texture of clouds. Then silk. Wool.
The print in the books tossed across long mahogany tables faded. Limitless reading lamps coalesced into a singular light like mercury rolling across a table. I held onto the sight of them for as long as I could. I tried to keep the lights separate. I squinted to keep reading the books. These things were made from other atoms. Their dream was breaking apart.
Her breath thickened into a whisper behind my ear. A string of voiceless ideas became words. She made one last point as she gathered my bed sheets around me. “Don’t forget. Don’t forget what I showed you.”
But I did.
