Your Unfinished Future

Your walk is over. What follows is only what the rooms noticed.

You leave here known by something that cannot quite place your name, able to step back into weather that has already passed, and given back a hallway you were once called into. You also go out with a conversation waiting for you further on and with a line still open behind you.

The Domestic Weather Memory Era files your future under shelter. Expect rain indoors, and a voice calling you in before the thunder.

The Counterfactual Communications Boom keeps your line open. Somewhere a receiver is warm, and nobody in that kitchen has hung up.

The lights go down one room at a time, in the order you walked them.