EPISODE NINETEEN, SCENE FOUR

{ NOT AS DELICATE AS EXPECTED }
the call bounding off the smooth surface of the water. the house a clatter and clash of rocking chairs, music boxes - the cat slapping its tail against the door. darling is not actually rolling yet. she is moving backwards in slow motion, putting the knickknacks back in their places. she goes through the entire process: lifting every framed photo, every vase, and wiping it with a damp cloth. this is important. she is unaware of the monstrous and awful sounds of bones shifting, of cartilage and blood. suddenly a choir, the collapse of her body onto the sofa. a veil of dust drifting, mingling sweat and sage. a static rises, flickers on the walls, sparkling.
duchess still thinks of the sea in her own way. she calls it a lovable creature. she watches it swell, fascinated. snippets of ships rising and popping on the waves. duchess thinks of when the horizon was all black, and the water an inked cauldron. she presses her mouth into the collar of her coat and sighs.
darling is disappointed in the result of her efforts. she didn’t even have to clean. she’d fixed on a room, hoped to make it real. she made an attempt and things might have altered, dependent on the time of day and the weather. the breeze disrupting the curtains. the room disturbed by its residents, the enameled box, the velvet pincushion. a glitch, a gap that’s slowly closing: soon there will be no unknown room - or will the gaps continue to multiply despite darling’s intentions? a lot could happen. it will certainly happen. darling will continue to hold her place. to notice how the house and the sea sit side by side, though they were never meant to be together.
i must get back to my duty, says duchess.



























