By IMERPUS RELUR
--
door.
No handle.
No hinges.
But it opened.
Inside, a room.
Dusty.
Empty.
Except—
> A bed shaped like his childhood.
A lamp flickering with old laughter.
Imer stepped in.
And the room exhaled.
> "You're late," it whispered.
"But you're home."
He didn't speak.
He just laid down.
And the room wept.