Dog

Previously

…I reached the surface. Pulled myself up through the fracture and onto solid ground — or what passed for solid ground in a mind that has just reorganized its own foundations. The maze waited. Changed but present. Its walls still covered in writings, its corridors still branching toward uncertainty, its architecture still designed to confuse. But I was different now. Carrying the piece I'd lost. Carrying the dog inside me. Carrying the knowledge that every sky is one sky and every cold is survivable and every star that disappears comes back if you wait long enough in the right direction. I stood at the edge of the next corridor. The maze exhaled. This time, I didn't flinch.