The house

The blue carpet stops at a doorway. You step over a strip of worn brass. There are floorboards beneath your feet now, and walls close enough to touch. Behind you, a voice is still speaking. You can no longer make out the announcement. Ahead, someone laughs in another room. You are in a house. You recognise parts of it. The turn in the stairs. A chair with one arm worn smooth. You put your hand on the back of it, trying to remember where it used to stand. You thought the fire had taken this. There is someone you need to find. You have been carrying a warning for so long that you can no longer remember its exact words. But here are the rooms, still standing, and people moving between them. You need to tell someone what can happen. You call out. A conversation pauses beyond the wall, then begins again. You follow it into a room full of people. Some of the voices are familiar. You wait for a face to turn towards you, for someone to recognise how long you have been gone. You ask about the…