Spirit In- | Searching For- Spiraling

It was me, but older. More tired. A version of myself who had never stopped searching. He—I—wore a coat I didn't own and held a compass whose needle spun in perfect, useless circles. He looked up from the reflection and mouthed three words: You found it.

I opened it.

I walked home in the dark, my shoes soaked, my chest light. I didn't sleep. I didn't need to. For the first time in years, I wasn't searching for something. Searching for- spiraling spirit in-

You already know where to look.

I knelt. The reflection in the water wasn't mine. It was me, but older

The subject line appeared in my inbox at 3:14 AM on a Tuesday. No sender. No attachments. Just that strange, broken phrase: It was me