I made coffee like I always do, watched the light come through the same window, felt the day arrange itself around me like it knows exactly where to go But there was something in the corner of the room that doesn't move that doesn't leave Not a shadow, not a feeling I can name, just the sense that I've been here before standing at the same interior door I ran the numbers on my happiness and everything came back in range — stable, functional, accounted for, which is the part I find most strange There's a frequency beneath the floorboards of the life I built that hums a note I've never been shown I keep looking for the seam — the place where this life ends and the one I meant begins It looks like everything it sounds like everything it moves the way that everything is supposed to move But in the photographs I'm slightly out of focus like the camera knew before I knew It looks like everything — I feel it when the house is quiet and the list is done and there's nothing left to manage — that's when it comes And I don't know if that's a flaw in me or just the shape of a mind that keeps one eye on the door I keep looking for the seam — the place where this life ends and the one I meant begins It looks like everything it sounds like everything it moves the way that everything is supposed to move But in the photographs I'm slightly out of focus like the camera knew before I knew It looks like everything — I'm not unhappy — I want to be clear about that I'm just aware of a version of myself that lives somewhere adjacent to this one same house same hands same window but standing slightly differently in the light I made coffee like I always do and it was good and the light came through and I stayed a little longer than I needed to just to see if the corner of the room would tell me something it didn't
