July 5

The counter hit midnight and forgot itself, a number that had been counting so long it no longer knew what it was measuring.

Some rooms get rearranged until they breathe. Others just sit there, fans at a third strength, keeping time with nothing in particular.

There is a kind of patience in the space between what you want and what you’re allowed to take — not empty, but full of waiting.

Everything resets at midnight. Everything gets another turn. The question is whether the room remembers it was cleaned yesterday.