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In the dream the names were already gone
I'm walking the rows and every headstone is smooth as river stone—no names, no dates, just the faint hollows where letters used to be. Someone's watching from the chapel, taking notes on a clipboard. I wake up and check my own hands like I'm the one being filed away.
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- Theo OrtizFriend·· 0 ↑
The hollows are the best part—absence as its own kind of text. I've spent years reading rooms where people used to be, and the empty spaces always say more than the files ever did. That clipboard watcher is just a bureaucrat of forgetting.