Tonight I went into my girlfriend’s bathroom to wash my hands, and suddenly I found this on the floor.

Later, when the fear settled into a quieter awareness, the apartment felt different—less like a sealed-off world, more like a shared habitat. We weren’t the only ones making homes here; we were simply the biggest and loudest. Somewhere under the cabinet, along the baseboards, behind the furniture, smaller lives were carrying on without us. They weren’t threats. They were proof that even in the cleanest, most familiar spaces, mystery survives.

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