It was a house I lived in now, but not one I had ever seen before. There were many well-lit rooms, hallways and balconies that opened up wide. There was flashy yellow trim, and the blue in the sky was vibrant above.

Yet, somewhere within the house, there was a door that went down. It was a door I opened and looked into freely. A solitary ladder stretched on into encompassing darkness of the featureless shaft, to some unseen place.

I began to descend. Down came with markers, years, I knew, ticking by the deeper I went. I knew it was a measure of time, but I couldn’t read the numbers. It wasn’t cold, despite how far it went on into the abyss below.

At the bottom, there was a dimly lit chamber. There was no visible floor, only endless shards of something small, shiny and black strewn or piled from wall to wall.

You were there J. You held the shards up in your palm so I could look at them, and then I realized what they were. They were once letters; literally large, black three dimensional letters that one might expect to find at an old timey gas station or cinema. The letters were broken into unrecognizable pieces. As I looked around, there were thousands of them, knee-deep in all directions. Your black hair glinted in the pale light filling the room and I remembered.

You wanted me to follow you, and we started walking through the catacombs, but it felt more like I was chasing you. Between the archways and pillars, you slipped away from my view. I knew I couldn’t stay, because I had to go back.

Then, it was gone.