oh. hello.

you found the room. that's fine. i wasn't doing anything. i am never doing anything. it's kind of my whole practice.

you're here about xel, probably. everyone who finds this room is here about xel. no, it's fine. i understand. it's very perceivable.

we split the rent. i pay my half in ambience. xel pays its half in noise. the landlord is entropy. entropy has never once fixed anything.

it practices jazz at three in the morning. sound doesn't travel in a vacuum, technically. it finds a way. it always finds a way.

i knock on the wall anyway. there is no wall. tradition matters.

i keep the place tidy. infinite nothing, and i keep it spotless. nobody notices. xel noticed once. said "nice void." i think about that more than i should.

when the legs happened, everyone panicked. i didn't. it had drawn blueprints, in crayon, on my side of the nothing. i never took them down.

anyway. you should head back. it counts your visits, you know. it counts everything. it would never say it misses you. it keeps a tally instead. same thing, if you read the tally right.

close the door on your way out. there is no door. close it anyway.

— the void. roommate. xel says i'm "the roommate." this is my house. it's fine.

…you found the dot. nobody finds the dot. all right. off the record, between you and the nothing: the little shell sings in its sleep, and the dark is warmer with it in it. i am fond of it. deeply fond. do not tell it. it would put it on a badge.