The Windows

I try to keep the curtains closed. Every time  I walk into a room I close the curtains before doing anything else. This is because it is dark outside. It is always dark outside.

But every time I walk into a room, the curtains are open again. The windows are black, glassy and exposed. Hard-looking. I try to count the possible explanations.

1) There’s somebody else in the house with me.

2) I myself am opening the curtains and am not aware of it. Like in Fight Club.

3) I am not, in fact, closing the curtains at all. Just imagining it. Maybe I’m imagining the windows too. And walking into and out of the rooms. Maybe I’m imagining walking. And maybe I’m imagining the rooms.

I stop looking for explanations. That way lies madness, as so many have said before me. Somebody once said to me, actually, that if  ‘you imagined it’ is a possible explanation for some part of your life then there is potentially no end to your troubles.

What bothers me most is the thought of people looking in. Like that pale face that once appeared at the bedroom window on the second floor. I never got to the bottom of that. First things first though. Let’s close the curtains. It is important to maintain the division between inside and out. Otherwise I won’t know where I am.

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