Chương 8: “The Second Floor”

He went down on a Wednesday night and opened the second floor and found the memory still there, which he had expected, and when he unsealed it to reclaim the floor it was still there, which was the problem. It would not leave. He had sealed it because it was his and he had already looked at it once and once was enough. It was still his. It was still there. He stood in the second floor with the memory at the far end of it and felt the shape of it pressing against his awareness. He looked at it.

The edge of it, not all of it. Enough to know that it was not the kingdoms or the gods or any of the things he had been telling himself it was when he thought about having a history. It was smaller than that. More personal. Something that only matters if you are the person it happened to, which he was, and he had been, for three thousand years, specifically not thinking about it. If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it's taken without permission from the author. Report it.

He sealed it again and reclaimed the floor around it and went back upstairs. June was asleep. She had left a biscuit on the windowsill. She did this sometimes, left things for him, just as she used to leave things in the cold at the back of the closet before she knew what the cold was. A button. A coin. Half a biscuit. He ate the biscuit. He did not think about what it meant that she was still doing it. He ate the biscuit and sat on the windowsill and thought about the second floor.

He thought about it until morning. System: Bond Strength: 17%. You ate the biscuit. You knew what it meant when you ate it. That's all.