He descended, each step vanishing beneath him as though the world unraveled at his heels. The staircase stretched just far enough to suggest a journey but not an arrival, its worn edges shaped by feet that had long since disappeared into silence. He did not count the steps, there were too few to matter, too many to ignore. Something had been lost along the way, though it did not carve itself upon his face. He was faceless, not in absence, but in erasure, worn down by silence and time until nothing remained to be remembered. No eyes to reflect sorrow, no mouth to shape the question: Did I exist at all ? A few more steps, and then? The bottom was there, or it wasn’t. His foot wavered over the last descent, but no one was watching, no one would know if he hesitated or fell. The stairs knew, perhaps. They had carried him before, had borne his weight in moments that mattered only to him. Now, they simply gave way beneath him, step by step, as if to say: You were here, but it is time to go.
@Dairy_of_Darkness
@Dairy_of_Darkness