Some things are easier to continue than to end.
The fifth floor still exists.
The doors still open.
The lights still work.
Someone probably still knows the way there.
It is only the reason for going that has disappeared.
Strange.
The body doesn’t seem to have noticed.
It still waits for the familiar hour.
Still knows where to stand.
Still reaches for things that aren’t there.
There is something almost embarrassing about it.
To keep preparing for a life that has already happened.
Perhaps that is what makes certain endings so peculiar.
Nothing dramatic happens.
The music stops.
The room empties.
And still, the light stays on.
For no one in particular.
Perhaps that is the strangest part.
Somewhere, something is still waiting for the door to open.