found drama

The house knows your secrets.  It keeps memories from you, it forms opinions about you, casts judgment on you.  The rooms change shape when you enter, they reconfigure; the house wants you to feel at home but this is no place you’ve ever called by that name.  But you recognize it in tiny fragments.  The hinge on a cabinet door.  The grain of the wood paneling.  The carpet worn too thin along a certain path.  This isn’t the place you know but you know this place.  The house tells you that it’s okay, you can do whatever you want here, you are safe here.  But it’s trying to trick you.  You know that it will just use these thoughts, these deeds against you.

About Rob Friesel

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