The candlelight flickered. Fully alive. This time, the
picture frame wasn't just a completed image—it was a life.
I quickly ran up to the third floor—the confession room.
Before disappearing, I had to see her. But the room was empty. Completely
empty.
I rushed to the basement. All the decor downstairs had
changed, but I had no time for details. I had to find her.
The silence of the house was strange. As if it wasn't
listening anymore. Like a wild animal tamed, watching my anxiety with surprise.
Now, only one cup was on the kitchen table.
I hurried to the second floor. No one was there.
I ran between floors, but in each room and on each floor, it
seemed I left behind a piece of myself. I kept forgetting something—I didn't
know what. And I was scared.
I kept asking, "Where is she?" But my voice
dissolved in an unreachable echo. No answer.
Now only one picture frame remained on the wall. But no one
else remained in this house.
Suddenly, I remembered the fish.
I went to the aquarium.
Thank God—they were still here. And maybe the last frame was
for them. But no. I couldn't bear losing the fish too.
If they left, I would remain. Alone. Boundless.
I had come from a war. Where would I go? I had nowhere to
go. This was my only safe spot.
I put my hand on the glass. The glass was slightly warm. The
calm movement of the fish comforted me. It seemed I was no longer a guest in
this house.
How hungry I am. Maybe I should cook something for myself.
First, perhaps tidy the kitchen a bit.
I felt I had forgotten something, but I didn't know its
name. What was I looking for?
The house took a breath. I heard its breath. It was
satisfied. I was satisfied with it too.
It protected me from war and trauma. I loved it.
The weather was sunny. The backyard outside the kitchen
window looked like a beautiful painted image.
But something was tapping on the window.
A beautiful, golden bird. I didn't know its exact name. It
was odd: a large crest on a small body, a long tail. What did it want here?
One of its wings was injured. I had to help it. It was as
lonely as me. But maybe it had a family.
Well, in this state, it couldn't fly. The cats would surely
eat it.
I gently held it with both hands, kissed its head. Its heart
was beating fast.
I went upstairs to get the first-aid kit from my room.
The picture frames on the wall seemed moved. But there was
no one here except me. I must have been imagining things.
Better to bandage the bird's wing first. Then I really
needed to clean the house thoroughly.
I went to my room. The first-aid kit was right by the
balcony door.
I began to bandage the bird's wing.
"All better now. You can fly and go."
"But… what if there's no one waiting outside? You don't
have to go. You can stay."
"You know, this house is very kind. It takes your pain
and gives you a room in return. You can take the room on the right. It has a
window facing the garden, but no balcony. Still, the view is prettier than
mine."
"My room is mine alone. It's the biggest. The third
floor is the confession room. I'll teach you all this little by little. First,
you must learn the rules and respect them. Or else… never mind. Just learn the
rules and respect them."
"Don't stare at the picture frames on the stairs.
That's the most important rule. Don't even look at them—especially in the dark.
Come straight upstairs."
"During the day, I'm on the ground floor, cooking and
watching series. The fish are there too. They don't do anything—just watch and
pass by. And the basement…"
"That's where real time is."