The Alarm You Didn’t Set It is 5:47 in the morning and you are already awake. Not gently, not gradually — awake the way a

The Alarm Clock as Ideology The alarm goes off at five-forty. Not because your body is ready. Not because light has entered the room or

The Uncomfortable Mirror in the Drawing Room You are at a dinner party. The wine is good, the lighting is forgiving, and somewhere between the

The Alarm Goes Off You are already awake before the alarm sounds. The body learned this trick somewhere along the way — anticipating the intrusion,

The Voice You Cannot Silence You are lying in the dark at three in the morning, and the voice has not stopped. It is not

The Weight of the Sun You come back in August, which is the only time anyone ever comes back, and the town receives you the

The Village at the Edge of Everything The road out of Guardialfiera does not so much end as dissolve — into ochre dust, into the

The Road That Ends Before It Begins You are driving south, and at some point the road stops announcing itself. There are no more signs

The Stranger Who Draws Your Face You are sitting at a table in a village square you have lived in your whole life, and a

The Smell of Something Wrong You walk into the apartment and you know immediately, before your eyes have adjusted, before you have crossed the threshold

The Wreckage on the Desk You have written the first sentence three times and deleted it each time. The page is still blank — not

The Weight of Stones Underfoot You are walking, and the city is already ahead of you. The cobblestones of the Via Sacra do not yield