The last stair in the dark you thought for sure was there, when you foot crashed into carpet so suddenly, and you found yourself at the bottom, a step early, left hand left grasping for the light switch, an opposite moth hitting its body against darkness, and the meat and potato meals of your childhood still sunk in your stomach, the uneasy fullness of saltless dinners and over-cooked beef that causes you to sink onto the stairs, still unlit, the smell of home you never noticed when you lived here, and admit your defeat to this place that still has your height marked on the doorframe, and let the darkness carry you away.

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