I tilt my chin … up … up …
As if … as if … reaching … wanting …
A kiss?
The lightest brush of lips against mine.
And the panic recedes, as if retreating from the sunlight and warmth and … love?
I open my eyes.
I’m still on the floor of my aunt’s office, but I’m … relaxed.My limbs are heavy, languid, as if I’ve slept …
No, not slept.
A different warmth, the embers of a lingering curl of desire, has settled under my skin.
The panic attack has eased.I’m still overwhelmed, but not consumed by it.
What the fuck was that?
An echo of the past?A moment to come?
My gaze settles on the armoire, drawn to it as I am every moment I’m in this fucking turret.I sit up, crossing my legs.
“I need to know,” I say, speaking to myself.
I don’t know why the last moments of my aunt’s life matter so much when in the grand scheme of the universe, I understand they truly don’t matter.But they do.
“I have to know,” I say, speaking to the armoire.I can’t walk into this new existence without understanding.What is missing?What am I missing?
“I must know,” I say, speaking to the energy flowing through me.If I’m to fully function, to be what the world, the universe, needs me to be, I need some … understanding.Some self-determination?
The armoire doesn’t open.
Nothing stirs within the essence that underpins the property.
No clarity blooms within my mind.
I make it to my feet.I cross back to the armoire, resting my hand upon it.
I can feel it.
The energy drawing and holding me here.
I slide my hand higher … trying to remember if I’ve ever seen the armoire standing open before.
Yes … yes … the middle section held books, more notebooks?And some heirlooms?But there’s also a shelf, isn’t there?Right at this level.
And there, under my palm, I can feel it.Intensely.
It’s not essence.It’s not a sense.
It’s an emptiness.
An echo of the emptiness I felt on the path leading up to Rath.An emptiness I grew numb within, picking over the keepsakes on my windowsill that I have no memory of.
Something that once belonged to me resides in this cabinet.