Another room. Oak dining table, flipped with effort on its side and pushed against the entry door. A tabletop corner deeply marred the parquet – too bad! The six black dining room chairs, flipped three upside down to mate seat-to-seat in neat pairs. Nestled them between the protruding table legs like players on a stage. And as mute as I am. Rolled up the rug -- how tatty the fringe is! A dulled diagonal stripe of wear across a corner from years of a room’s foot traffic. These details seem crucial, to note them. I should keep my mind sharp, though I cannot think of what to do with a sharp mind. Deduce things, dream of things, remember other places. Or even other people! It’s enough that someone wore the rug there. This will settle in my memory as the room with the worn rug. There was the one with the low floor and there was the classroom and the paint fumes room and now the worn rug. I hope I get a kitchen next so I can get something to eat. I must be famished although I don’t feel hungry in the slightest.

The first room
The second room
The third room
The fourth room
The fifth room
The sixth room
The seventh room
The eighth room
The ninth room