SOFIA
I didn’t go back to the corridor. Not after that. I avoided that section of the house entirely not because I couldn’t move through it, but because I didn’t want to test what would happen if I did.
That wasn't a strategy. That was awareness. The difference mattered.
By the time I reached the west wing, the house had settled again. It wasn't fully the way it used to be, but it was enough that movement felt structured again. Contained. I followed it, not because I agreed, but because it was easier than pushing against it.
The room I ended up in wasn’t unfamiliar. I had passed it before but never entered. Today, the door was open. That had stopped meaning anything. I stepped inside anyway.
Another office. Not the one from before, and not the one with the file. This one was cleaner a
