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The others left for a briefing at half past nine this morning. I found out at eleven, from the sound of the door.

I'm not going to write the thing I'm feeling because writing it will make it more real. Instead I'm going to note that I found a new room today. Third floor, east side, behind a wardrobe that wasn't pushed quite flush to the wall. Small. Full of old newspapers from the 1930s and a broken lamp and something that might have been a hatbox. I sat in it for a while.

I don't know why the house still has rooms to give me. I don't know why that still feels like something.

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