This is not a story. It is a collection of silences. It is the sound of a refrigerator stopping, the feeling of a loose thread on a sleeve, the taste of water left out all night. It is a catalogue of the small, useless details that hold a room together, and the moments when they start to fall apart. Written from a single chair in a quiet house, this book is an intimate, unsettling exploration of what we notice when we stop trying to make sense of it all.
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