An I Don’t Know

When I said I didn’t know, I didn’t think it would lead to the fantastical discoveries that have transpired.

I didn’t know saying, I don’t know, would propel such a story, such an adventure, as the adventure that has swept me up since last Monday, well into the week.

How was I to know? When the man in the white tie came to my doorstep, I didn’t understand. When food started to turn to ash in my mouth, how could I comprehend? How was I to fathom such a moment—I don’t know—was to throw all I’d even known into upheaval, into chaos. Clueless I was when I found the box within the mirror, when I tripped over the Loafer placed quite so on the sidewalk; how could I have perceived that the walls would change, the sky would flip downwards, that a tree could talk how was I suppose to know?

Now the wind blows endlessly through the window, never ceasing, some physical epitome of Maxwell’s demon come to disrupt every figment of my being.

How pleasantly I had always known, how impervious and sure life was.

Now the doorbell is ringing. And it never stops.

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